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Arkansas ladies' journal. (Little Rock, Ark.) 1884-1886, February 28, 1885, Image 1

Image and text provided by Arkansas State Archives

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn90050096/1885-02-28/ed-1/seq-1/

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Jansas ladies’ journal.
SAM. TA IE, I . •
F w GIBB I' -Associate W l iters.
business enterprises, can find with this journal
of advertising.
: .1 ? f , r t ], c
our paper, ve desire addressed
■wlays issue of the Journal will be
very interesting paper by Airs,
■bibb, who will have charge of the
Home departinant.
■“g notable persons now visiting
'■' lij ilr - Justin McCarthy, mem
■’wliament, historian and novelist,
with whose writings we
■“Sis sojou rn i llg at Old Point
a - He is described by those
K r 'J'"’ ;,s a grave, care-worn
■ * re yove hope the soft sea-breeze
■i 111,0 £ rccn parapet of For
■Jb °bmay revive his weary mind,
literary and po-
of tl,c GazMt ’ I,is
e * ncar br ' n S' n g a
BU ? '' ail i,wn 1
Btbe & re Porters to leave un-
BC of " ,e , " c “ bcre »f
, IC GuzMe -
JtB 11 ' 01 »f»ilhiin' Cen ln " zzlcd ”
■ Ullllg irom ‘he
B< .I'' p"»-. «r the face-
I ? ,d in tlleir
| . ’l' 6 ease we
a> » e | , to blame
'“St U re!!re, fOly after
'• ft.' 1 "iw' 8 6Xi ," 111 ,eans
■"’•alw,, l cl,c 'l following
■ ’ "Porter Having
aylegram back to us of their “proceed
There s always a river to cross,
Always an effort to make,
If there’s anything good to win,
Any rich prize to take;
A onder s the fruit we crave,
A onder the charming scene ;
But deep and wide, with a troubled tide,
Is the river that lies between.
* * * $ *
For, rougher the way that we take,
The stouter the heart and the nerve,
The stones in our path we break,
Nor e’er from our impulse swerve;
For the glory we hope to win
Cur labors we count no loss;
Tis folly to pause and murmur because
Os the river we have to cross.
A book recently published has been
much read and commented upon. This
book, “The Missing Link,” has been
written by one of the celebrated “ Fox ”
sisters, with whose experiences, and whose
failures in spiritualism, the reading world
is well acquainted. The author now pub
lishes her book for the purpose of setting
forth her experience, with the incidents
connected with that experience in all that
pertains to this curious but unwholesome
belief. The Ladies’ Journal terms this
belief unwholesome, and affirms that there
is yet to be found any benefit for humanity
arising from the teachings of this mis
termed religion. 'We have also yet to learn
of any permanent excellence proceeding
from it. Upon the other hand we learn of
unhappiness, confusion of mind, nervous
apprehension, and serious mental terrors
connected with this so-called spiritual
A true religion—not that of one or
another church—but a deep and fervent
response and communion with the one
Almighty God —this benefits the human
race; it exalts the mind, it tends to bring
peace and fortitude, with a lofty and
healthful system ot thought. Is it not
better to lift the mind? Is it not better to
view with intelligent discrimination the
fallacies that are all about us, than to
adopt the theories of this “ Missing Link ”
’ with its “ rappings ” and “ table tippings,”
and its material transformations?
The extract below is written by Col.
McC lure, of Philadelphia, and gives us a
glimpce ot a noted Southern writer.
“ Among the bright days of the Southern
journey dates a visit to the home of Mrs.
M ilson, among the many old-time beautiful
residences which are in the suburban part
of Mobile. Few in the North would know
Augusta J. Evans as Mrs. Wilson, but
the name of Miss Evans is familiar to all
the lovers of literature in every section of
the country. Iler fine old mansion is
thickly surrounded by live oaks in per
petual verdure, a profusion of shrubbery
and camelia trees, radiant with thousands
of bursting buds and blooming flowers.
One tree, that has evidently been the ob
ject of special care, bore full 3000 bright
scarlet buds and flowers on its exquisitely
symmetrical branches, and when in full
bloom it must illumine the whole
neighborhood. The visitors were prompt
ly admitted and greeted by the dis
tinguished authoress in the hospit
able style of the true Southern home.
She was neatly clad in pretty gingham
costume, and her welcome made all for
getful of formality. She lives and moves
in a vast bower of flowers, all planted and
nursed by her own hands, and she exhibits
them with all the pride and affection of a
Roman mother. Refreshments were served
and the one vacant place at the table had
a napkin ring holding an exquisite white
[camelia. “That,” said Mrs. Wilson, “is
my husband’s bouquet for to-day, and he
has never been without one at any breaking
of broad in our home since we were
married, now sixteen years ago.” She
discussed authors with freedom, but in
generous kindness, and spoke sorrowfully
of the decline in Southern literature caused
by the long trials and sacrifices of war.
She inquired specially for Miss Brewster,
of this city, and said that she had lately
written to her, urging the reprint of new
[editions of her books. “I read no
! history of the war,” she said,
with the impressive pathos that
! only a woman could exhibit. “ The story
jis too sad to me and to those who saw its
Subscription, 52.00 a Year

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