"ADVICE TO A YOUNG LADY"
More than sixty years ago, one of the young ladies of our city paid a visit to relatives in Franklin, Ga. Upon returning home, she left at the home of the late Col. John B. Beall, her shaw, a little sacque, and a peleasse. In sending the packages containing these articles to her, Col. Beall added a letter. This was recently found and the philosophy of it, as well as its quaints as, is such as to make it of lateral to others. The recipient of the letter has kept it since before her marriage sixty-two years ago, and now presents it for publication. It is as follows:
Franklin, Ga, Aug. 22, 1872.
Dear Rhoda:
Enclosed find a sack to cover your stays, A shawl for your back, and a fine peleasse.
I'm so stupid today, that is looking around, For somewhat to say, only this I have found,
And your pardon I ask: Will you give it to me? For the self-given task, and the bold simile!
Last year will be a stay, that shall fasten and bind Any impulse of temper disposing your mind
To words, bitter words, to conseration sad strife Which mar all the beauty, the glory of life.
A loved one constrained by the ties of the world The ceaseless turmoil and versital whirl.
Some unkind expression may chance to let fall Some seeming reproof, that stir up your gall
And the impulse will start--let the stay bind it down Not a word of retore! not even a frown.
But to bring him to sorrow in sackcloth and ashes Let a crystal-like tear deck your dark silken lashes
Let the sack be the smile that shall ever impart A veil for the wound that may probe to the heart
And the effort of will that it hides shall control The bitter resentment that springs in the soul
Until anger, forgetting expressions shall prove That the magic of smiles may convert it to Love.
And the grateful flow of the la polonalse Let it figure the graves, the charm I will say
Of the milad, of the heart, the charm that shall ever via The eye of affection and keep from sin.
A mantle of charity to hide in the breast The faults that are seen in the wall of the best
A cloak of discroties, to hide from mankind, From the sharp ear of Rumor, the blade like the wind
Of the desert, those things that are marred to home And the breast of affection, wherever we roam.
And the shawl, it is love that warms the whole life and skate out the world, with contention and strife;
Shouts out the cold winds of fear and distrust, Of suspicion whose breath will cover like a rust;
Keeps the oval warm with a spirit-like fire While it builds open hope, rising higher and higher,
Till faith gives it wings, and upward it flies, Cuts loose from its armor and rests in the skies.
Dear cousin, farewell, when my head is laid low And my time shall have come to depart
May you feel that the humor larglous my pea It is warmed by a loving heart.
Your affectionate,
John Bramblett Beall
To Miss Rhoda Frances Merrell, later Mrs. William Beall
