Richland beacon. [volume], June 07, 1873, Image 1

About Richland beacon. [volume] (Rayville, La.) 1869-1890

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RIOAND BEACON.BECON
A ItU 4 Lire Country Paer, Publiabed e b R~tAS oeAdrertii___
Saturday Morning.*"
WILEY P. MANGHAM, IRICI1iL.iNID 1. .
Eltor andI Proprietor. Jluar.. 2 761 I 6161 3
JIH ~ N ECN '.qmalr~a. 4.. ei . IIi 6. .n l
3A . 3AID, Aayciatg Zdior &I FebYaker. 5%q~unare... I 'I I 4" 4" l*(
T e r m s' o r Su b sc r ip t io n: = A l i w. f i i . . rt j a t I I- _ - _ - = - -
fine ropy, one year.....I1.4.0 '" 6)lUIrkfl .l )Yl iu1j "
luni. C-IY. six mionith................... 2).. IsIEsri aI4 ci .Sufla I UE. per ejul r r Irt.t 1 1i
14-11 Copp.As, in club. onc year, each.. , r.t 2.61016- - . _ _
rrAlI au..rrl g ions intarlabf Ia adVlflE6. the wlrhfV LO L .1lue 11 1.I 4.
Lionarnemn ter..1 14,Nnth t li ,,tua auI b 14cra - )o . 230I KJ-rru fe,.. i lar' l
tilb as paidi. ii I U P 114l
TIHE LUINOLTED DOOR.
An ag., widow sat altne'
thhietl r lvltnz h,'arih.
Ih. r -till at a iittae nlie r iteaer.L
'I h." alin.g lanch aI llmirth.
( Ihilrlr .lle t, 11.had -p, rl,td ther--ltll th nve l
rhurthiar I wno
F.II -11,,It ~ n Iv. littleh grat.- that w.lre liti long
thi. Irntd tlllll al ll l wit patient tore
IaIt .iemi., her .ve. hadt hied
Far Iilhtr.rr taar that tl a.e which dhwedl
The. fae, of the ,,al.
'I ht chil which hai l .. .n sparer, to le.r her
ainring orf hr lprle
'It1 w,'.efil ,m.ther livil tI wiish lthat ishe lhad a3l.o
'1 hI,,..' httle an,.- w elan:th ithe -neow,
"I ll,, wli knew Iher th ll a re
a t I.,-a gal irr. tIo e throne- ,f .e.1,
A i d t ha. lwtt I r tar "
1:1t hie ,, ,lhe "thl l wheril , ei.. " katie was, sthe w
l it l ly'.s glare.,
Th . aint,.l man-k ,f ,ut, r jn- that N'..l give..
ell to Wear.
Without, the n.w tLav thick and white,
No -alp ha. lallen li. r.
ihitiln. -h. -,at .e-lel hat dIlre,
L.ach lthought :l ent :ril,.n pray, r:
Wih. -uslent tehIr l. l ir t . al, ,unwnthed ,inoa
ah, h ,-arl,
A- 'h lugh a h I--ltting hall i lh ru-ti t hlat.h hal
s Irra d.
she turnted-and thre l,' . wandIt . rr -t-rI
a llth snow-ittekea on Ih, r ailr.
A laled wl',Imn, wlI, aill a I w. Irn,
'rhe ghat of f,.melthing fair.
AltI the, on.e the mtothar'. brt.rLt the with ertel
htrw wa ts lad.
n tir. ,,, a l a h ii t ,rgie me all, far I have
etlanued, " ' le t sail.
Ihe' widow edr.tltl tpon lhr knees,
ltibrr fle lading Ir'be,
Awl tlh:ankld l ith Loreld wh. lvr at la-a
I.l a granted hter daesire'
Tie,. Iaght.r k.h teal ltwide her, te- tel ar
slrelatmling fOrml m lair ,,i ,
atuId tpr'ayir, "'G. . h , it It ue to be t goodi to mttCh
er, r.-,,h die,-''
't'hey did not talk aloat the yin,
The' haneta,. te, hiltter wIoN:
They -poe.ke al out iah little graves
Air l thlinieo- ef Ilongiatge
Andl lte the daughter raintl her eye.. and aske
in tnlter Ltone,
"Why did }v-l keep voer door unl:rred, when
you were all -alne:''"
' "M rhil." the wil,,w aid, and smiled,
A ,leat of ltove and ptain,
Ani turn aw.al ll atei!
I 'le waie f,,r g.e all tla. while-anather'l love
,"e it it i ht flthe sha wyllwtre f i sl. lahodiel
for you! '
--ct' Ter& Ol.errver.
OF LITTLE FAITH.
IlARRlt ALI.ev\ leaned uon the little
woiden gate anti dreamed. It was such a
lovely morning. The sun was shining so
warm and bright, as if it took comfort in
slhnaick, the roses were in blossom. iad
the trees were wearing the green, as
though conesious that it was becoming.
She was wondering how any one could
fail to be glad and content on such a morn
ing. The sunshine was entering her soul,
and she forgot the thousnd little annoy
ances that every' day brought to her, the
vexations of life were far away, and she
fel that it wa that it was truly very sweet to live.
The horrid, little hall broken down gate
was anyway. strong enough to support
h1er as she "leaned, and that was saying
something, for it had hardly seemed able
to hear its own weight for a long time:
andl the house, though it held discomfort
beyond telling, this morning was looking
better and brighter, for the Virginia creep
er was clothing it with freshness, and the
glorious sunshine brightening it all. She
was thinking if she could only he allowed
to have a verbena bed in the little front
yard, and could tear away the holly-hocks,
and one or two mammoth lilac bushes, she
would be quite happy. when a voice that
was evideltly the echo of a soul very
much out of tune. broke upon her with
" Harriet Jane! Harriet Jane! what on
earth are you hanginn'on that gate so long
for, and how on earth do you expect the
work will get done if you spend your time
that way? '
Hlow little time it takes to put to flight
happy, pleasant thoughts. and send a host
of disagreeable ones in their place.
Away went Harrie's delightful dreams:
away went sundry resolutions she had
made as she leaned upon the gate. One
was, that she'd try and keep herself all
day above the vexations that were wait
ing for . whatever they might be. She
would try and keep the sunshine in her
heart all day, but alas! for good resolu
She picked up the broom that had fallen
down-for she had been sweeping, and
had swept her way to the gate, went slow
ly into the house. and said, " It was so
bright and pleasant, I couldn't help stay
ing out a little."
I'No, I s'poe not, but the morning was
made to work in; and this one is the best
we've had for washing in a long time, and
I'vre a glat mind, Harriet Jane to get the
tubs out, and t go ight at it. I should
readly edo' clothes always look better,
too, When the sun shines on 'em."
" If that's your Ildea of enjoyment, I'm
sirwy for you. For my part I don't want
t do any more house work on such a dlay
than I'm obliged to do. ad, beides that,
week's ironing Is not yet done."
eourse you won't wash, no one
Wex'et vyou too. Oh, no, but you
1iha't earoif I spentovery one of these
heam~bitays over the wash-tub, with no
s oy myself, when I need rest
so ma Iu-a mY, Harriet Jane."
" You are as loil so usual. anl as
eensistent, but I wish you woulin't call
gne Harriet Jane. You know ! hate the
name. and never want to hear it," said
Harrie, fast losing her temper.
"Your name is Harriet Jane." said her
Aunt, who must be Introduced as Mrs.
Hialy, snd it's a good name, and you was
after a good woman. Your Aunt
as loving a eentur as ever lived,
t and economical, and a master
phamiat house work. 8he never hung on
the gate o'mornins'. no Inde d. she was
up before light, would have thought it a
ai and ehame to ha' spent the time you
do over hmoks, and poetry, and such non
lease. Wish you was more like her."
"I'm extremely thankfl that I'm not
like her, sad am not in the east ambitious
i become like her. I am srr that even
-g m should hay, dveseed to me,"
_, Well," said Aunt Sussa, "Its your
emt cell you Harri, nor any
seolding,. and flew up stairs, and attackedl
the' tove with a sort of atoning zeal ~ she,
was realdy and willing to do work that
she' hlated,l when it was necessary that she
shoulel. but she' knew that there, wa: an
abundance of means to hire the work
1cltne, anld save many a back-ache and
im11th wear and tear of temper.
The'lre was no need that the ho-se
:hould tIw so plain and mean. nor that her
Aunt should work so like' a slave. It was
an eclonomy that she couldl ind no admni
r:ation for.
Site had been in the family since a lit
tle girl: had been car-el for like the rest
of the children. She had been scrupulou'ly
washed. and dressedl. and feel, sent to lday
school ande-an extra indulgelnce, sent
to the city for a year's schooling. Now.
what more could any girl ask. Why on
earth e'oIldn't heo telrn out like thel res't of
the chillren. and take to the house work.
to makintr ~nwl-quilts. and rag carpets. and
he content with reading the weekly pa
Iwr, which afferdl the me'ntal piabulum
foir the rest of the family. But slu
couldn't; she was like her own nmother.
and it was an ever-increasing mystery to
her, how two sisters couldl be so unlike.
as her Inother and this aunt. But we see,
this str enge diversity of taste and tenm
pwrament in families, and wonder over
.John's b inb ng so oell, or Mary so peculiar.
There was nothing re'markahle about
this little Hlarrie. She had a fine, sensi
tire nature, a love of books, that amounted
almost to a passion, a keen sense of hu
mor. that made her Aunt's ineonsistc'n
(eies oft"n veryl' comical to her. a war-u.
impunlive heart. and a good deal of tem
per. which, however, only nelededl the'
right management to be easily kept in
cheek. Site hated the monotonvof herdtlll
e'very-dav life, and occasionally rebeiled
against it, but again bravely made up her
mind to do her best, and that, after all.
there was a good dealof sunshine in life,
if you could manage to get into it.
IHer Aunt was certainly a mostaggrava
ting person. She hal a real fondness for
Hlarrie. and would work for her till she
was ready to drop down-to use her own
words-hut in so simple a matter as call
ing her Ilarrie, instead of Harriet J.lane,
she would not indulge her. She had a
great pride in her looks. but would never
have thought it possible to have pail her
a compliment. She was proud of her at
tainments. and secretly considerel her a
prodigy of learning, but would fret with
out ceasing over what she called her waste
of time in reading.
It was not easy for Ilarrie to keep her
temper under these circumstances, and in
spite of her own good judgment, they hadl
nany a war of words. It was no use
argu'ing any point with her Aunt, for she
took all sides of a question at once, and
had not the slightest idea of her own in
consistencies.
3 hdi there were three younger chil
dren. Louie, and Dan and Susy. They
adored HarriS, notwithstanding they
made her wreatched by their ceaseless de
mands.
We left our larrie making the beds, now
we will go back and see how it has fared
with her during our explanation.
She finished her work and went down,
and dusted the sitting room. Then she
went resolutely at the basket of clothes.
She didn't want to do that, because there
was to be a party at the Blake's that
night, and she knew that Ironing didn't
improve one's hands any, but she con
quered herself and went to her work.
She knew that in the afternoon she had a
few little preparations to make; her Swiss
muslin dress must be ironed out, and the
blue bows made over, so as to look fresh
and new. She did so wish she could have
a few flowers. A little mignonette or
tndcytuft, or a purple pansy. But she
remenbered gratefully, that there were
some half-opened rose-buds in the yard,
and these would have to do with a little
sprig of sweet-brier. She felt pretty sure
she could make her great mass of hair
look pretty-it always did, but a cluster
of pansies against her yellow locks, she
knew would be vastly more becoming than
pink roae-hbds. beautiful as they are. But
she knew also she couldn't have them.
To be sure, the Blake girl= had plenty,
but she would not ask for them. In fact,
they seemed to have everything, and she
wondered why, while she ironed Dan's
shirts and Louis' linen coat, and Susan's
aprons, that some lives were so fthll-and
others so empty. She was too young.
however, to be deeply troubled by these
questions--for, was not the world before
her, and hope was strong in her little
heart, and who knows. she said over and
over to herself, what blessings there may
be In the yeats that lie before me.
My duty demands that I tell my readers
that In her hopes and dreams fw the ft
ture, a tall handsome young fellow named
pill Wallace figured conspicuously. She
was wishing that he could he down to the
party that night; but his letter last week
said that it was uncertain how soon be
could come. So, of course. he eoy'd not
he there. But in the little countryM village.
in the summerevenings, two or three girls
could go together to any little gathering ;
soan escort was not indispensable. She
thought she would run up the street by
and by arid see Kitty Harris, and ask her
to call for her, and in the meantime cee
wtat she was going to wear.
Presently her aunt exclaimed, "Sakes
alive! If there ain't Mrs. Oilman coming
throuth the gate; and she has that ever
lasting work.bag! Come to stay, of
course!"
"Oh, dear! ' said Harrie, "what sent
her here? I really wish she'd favor us
with fewer visits. She has some ossip or
we should not see her to-day; I abominate
such a woman."
S"Harriet Jane," msid her aunt with her
usual contempt for her own perviounly
exprsed opinions, "I'm surprised that
a girl broght up as you have been
should speaL so disrspeelfial of sech a
woma.'
' And my wonder is," answered Har
r:e. "that I sp so well of her."
By this time Mrs. Gilman had rapped
vigorously several times, and was finally
alemitted ad taken into the little slttnlg
room, Mrs. IIanlv excused herself for a
moment, and h'fore she could get back
she was followed into the kltehen by her
visitor.
" Now, Mrs. Hanly," msaid she, " I don't
want to be made company of; just let me
sit right down where you are at work,
that'l suit me best. I ain't one of the
kind that ean't be happy nowhere but in
the parlor."
But Mrsn. Henly had no idea of keeping
her eompany a in the kitchen; so she took
Dan's coat to mend, and led the way beak.
It lacked an hear of time to get dinnera,
as la a few minute after, Harrie drew a
ittIle retki ebair up by a widow u i
tLhe Mke, ad theught she would rest
Ula. 8be vry imeL hrred hex
emlpany to r 'as mau
"a -s a -
'" ies'I." said llarrie.
'" Going to tN- wnl.lerftll tine; they s:ay
tlihe 've ' lit to tl h city far i o111e a' I'it, i
Lin;! of lanterni. I dli-r ini iniltr tlhe n:aue,,
to ihang tip in the tr.es. alid a lot Iof p.er
tietions land things but tihen the Il:ik,'e
•alwavs do, thiing up reald ice, thuiigh
law. I kn,,w S:ºllic 1liake, wihetn si. wa'
S :lli.e ;aites-. :iLnd -.w.d fr a living, or
teaehed -ho.l. or hdid motlt sanythiingi re
tswetable. You ean't tell. the luck of
mimle folk, is wonderihul."
" At Uay rate." s;aid Ilarrie. " von
ntlst tadmit that Mrs. Blake dleserves her
good fortune. She is a lady. and would
e,' whlatever her suirroundlllings."
" Well, w1ell. Ianv Ii.. but miney mak.es
a mighty sight of ilift.renew."
"" Yes. but not all the dlifbrence,." said
Hl:rrie firtrmly.
" Who do ou snuppo<e I mtet as I was a
comning up here," staid Mr,. 4(.ilin .
" alonlg with Miss Mollie BIlhake? no one,
but M.r. Will Wall:ace, looking a h ine a.
a judge. "irhey was lahughin' and chattiii'
as gay as could be. and lie had the n-aull
tifulest hasket of flowers in his hand I
ever see. I always likdal Will Wallace.
andl so I stopped and shook hlanlds with
him, and lie se-mellld real glad to seae lte.
too. I said, I spose Vtiu'Ve coilne dow n
to the plarty. a:nd ' hl said. vd.-. of
tco.lrse'. he cuinll ot hellp rlsploidhiln toi
suclh ain invitation. ,anil Mi- lBlake loikd.l
pilaa'd as coilld lie."
'Thenl I sa"id. I spose these aulltifiil
flowerars is dl.signedallt ir thie s:ule ilala.",
anal he said. I Idevouitlv IlIhope that they
will have that happy desl' .tinii," :and hIi
looked so milin' ait Mollie, that shlie
bluhledl. anld said, "li het nteed not have
miueh hI.:ar, such lovely flowers were al
ways waelcomlne."
" I think Molhlie Blake 's kind o' -illy.
but I gueslls Will Wallace is in earne°.t his
time. IHe's a kind o' tlirtin fellow. don't
you think so?"
Ilarrie, answered, " I don't know," but
wai only conscious of a lierce .desire to
get out of the mo.n, away fronl Mrs. Gil
man andit her horrid tongue. and it slhe
could, away fromu herself. She felt her
self growing pale and faint. but feigned
an anmiable wish to initiate Mrs. Gilnman
lully into the mystery of daisy mats. It
she only could escape betraying any emo
tion !
lint Mrs. (;ilman hail watheleI her toof
closely for that. and presently said:
" Don't iou think, Mrs. Hlanly, that
Ilarrie look~s jusit a leetle paler 'n usual
this summer. Seems to me she looks
kind o' peeked."
Mrs. I anly., on principle, never thought
as anybody el-e did. so s-le answer.ed tºiat
"she hadn't noticed it. Most girls wante.i.
now-a-days, was more exercise."
" Thank you. said hiarrie. " I am re
marka!,ly well, this summer, and as for
being pale, I never have much color, you
know."
S'That's so ; but it seems to me you
have' a kind o' tired look. and ma'be
you're nervous; some girls be."
'' Ihank vou, I'm never nervous."
"' I don't know now, you look sort o'
tremblin' like, and I shouldn't wonder
but what a tonic would do you good.
Boneset tea is'mazin' strengthenin', and
quietin', too."
" I don't think I need anytlhing of the
kind." said liarrie.
" Maybe not; out tlere was my couin
who died of consumption last year, and
she looked a good deal as you do. only
she was tall and stout and (lark complee
ted ; but then she had a dlisiptnointment;
that kind o' broke her down.like."
" The reseniblance must certainly be
very striking," said llarrie. It would
have been an intense sa'isfaction to her to
have said sonmethh.g that would have sent
the woman out of the house; but that be
ing inconsistetnt with good manners and
hospitality, she did the next best thing.
For once In her life she was glad to g-t
out Into the kitchen and go to work,
though it hurt her feelings to think she
maust get dinner for any one who had hut t
her peace so cruelly.
The children came in in their usual tu
multuous fashion, hungry and impatient,
as only school children know how ti be.
" Is my coat mendel ?" said Dan. "I'm
going hunting this afternoon 'long with
the other boys, and I want my dinner,
quick." And Tom wanted something
else, and. oh, d"-ar! so many things to
ao. and back of them all that dreadful
bitter feeling, that paidn that was so sick
ening and so strange. Would she ever
find time to sit down and think about it:
and was it all true? Was everything go
ing out of her life?
I think the dinner was a suttccess,
though the cook had a heartrache. The
coffee was just right, and the cream-pie
perfection. Mrs. Gilman did justice to
all without a particle of remorse of con
science. Then after a short time. "uli
clent fqnmanners, and more too, Harrie
though she took a reluctant departure.
The quiet summer afternoon wore on,
Harrie had found time to go to her own
room and think it all over. She firmly
made up her mind that she would not go
to the party. She wouldn't let any one
see her discomflture, nor would she add
to Mollie Blake's triumph. Everybody
knew that Will Wallace had been devoted
to her ever since they were children, and
had eared for no one else. To be sure,
they were not engaged, that is, in so many
words; but were words needed? Had
not every look and act of his spoken
plainer than any words could speak?
Poor larrie! the d mon of doubt and
distrust had driven away the sweet spirit
of peace and content that brightened her
heart in the morning, and had taken full
posselion.
Allowing she thought that that horrid
Mrs. Gilman had been purposely nmis
taken, why didn't he come up, the after
noon was wearing away, and no word or
sign to le her know that he had come,
and when before had he failed to present
himself in the dull little house at tbe ear
liest possible moment ? No, there was
something wrong, and she made herselt
as miserable as i girl well could, in con
juring up all sorts of possible and impos
ible things that might be the cause. No,
she wouldnot go to that party, but there
was her Aunt, who knew that she had in
tended going; what would she say to
her.
She expected she would say all sorts of
tantalizing things, and she went down
stairs, with a determination to be ·very
brave and cheerrfl, and patient, under the
most exasperating cireumstances, and she
needed all her caution, for her aunt com
menm..d :
"Well, if you've got through moping.
I guess you'd better iron out your dress,
unless you expect me to keep the flat hot
all the alfternoon. That is., if you lttend
to goto that prty ; I wouldn't go if I was
though, ltks see I'd lest my
Huur brought ot the prtty Swiss
Umal·aad ommuaued homigwithout
sm ea word. It wm very e ,
smmedeLhg but a reminder of how
hp L, she had e, and hw ideenly
-lsmmrw bad me ..po her.
se aabeel d the Seat tIme se wer
iWl was dorw, a math or two
m tsl Ie she ioobed LI
.e- the _ as t
dY -d
Yto
Swill probably say the same thing; to Mo'.
lie, Bllake. andl she. will believe thii. j.tI
u: I did."
S:ii Alint St-an. "I s'po-e o tiihoiiht
Will Walle Vwould 1e sari-tid'l with
yen. aifter livin' in the city. bult I hopl
"von .0ei now that ihe's just like the r,-t ii
tilk-. .M'llie Ilake's tintle f-atlher- ha:tve
lole. it."
Ilairrie answered. "I know better. It
i-n't Mollie's tine feather-. a: you 'ay.
but it lunay t somiuethling else. aindl with
goo~l rea':-on. Ii.s lifet is gr'iiwin brahnmle
and wider every dlay'. and ine. i- nairrow,
with no pIrospet of tb.in' any other way.
I suppoea e'e ju-t untgrowwiuig tme. tht:'
all.''
"ll'm. well. lmayee that sati-ties o ll
bilt if that': wlha t larning. anl l'cks.
and goingr to the city do«:. I Idon't want
*"I' nliglit not h:ave that efet 111)11pon you.
aunit." said Ilarrie. -niling.
"*Well. I knew jui-t how 'twould tl.'w
You :lw:ays thoullht yours'lf better and
'smarter than the ret of u, and noltely
Wi: oo oid illOlºigh tfir yoll: :intl yoll see
how 'ti-. l'ri.ld is pretty sure to Ilavye a
h11."
How unjust ali that was, and Ilarrie
knew it, too ! 4('olhn't her aunllllt see that
there was Ino neeal of mllakin her t;~.I tor.
turel helVind what she eould bear? The
angry -pirit was ri-ing rapidly within her:
but 'he wounlln't allow herself the Illuxury
i'f talkiug back. She' would not shllow her
hurt to this reii'IUl woimana more thnan she
co'i,.l help. She t)ook a hot flat-iron, andl
not -tolpping to iexamine its titnes tir
lillllin. -lihe threw it down with an ene'ry."
horn of her desperation upon lthe trail
fthrie. Lo' it left its shape done in
brown upon the gomns. right on the front
breadthll of the dlainty dress. and the
smolke that arose from It was a witness of
her rashness and the harm. Quick a
thought flashed upon her. "Now I can't
go. now I can't go; and I'm glad . I'ml
glad !" She hail been wondering what
reasonable excuse she couldl invent. and
here was a good one at her hand. To hw'
sufre her aching head would have been
.sulhi'ient : but that shlle mist not own to.
lier heavy heart was (excuse enough, but
what won:an can llmake such a tritle as
that weigh againit her pridel. Aunt SI
sanl' saolding over the burnt br'lealth wa:u
like music. It could not repair thei.
damage and make it presentable, so she
might scold. Now it nmust be col.fisseed
that one party dress was all our Mlar
rie owned and that being new was to (do
siervite. with sundry changes in tritn
mings. &e., through all the summer. As
she hmked at the ugly distiguremlent she
realized that it meant the expense of a
new breadth, and a day's work at least:
and she felt that more than that it was a
sort of witness against her. Of course
she could have helped it; but she would
not admit yet but that she was heartily
glad.
There was no denying that Harrie was
in a bad humor, andt the beautiful trait of
trust was in no wise developing under this
little test.
Now it might have been so different.
She was very young. and her aunt was so
far away from her in thought and feeling,
that she fe'lt obliged to hidie her own. A
little judicious advice, a little insight into
Ilarrie's nature, and Aunt Susan coulil
have smoothed out many of the rough
places, and in place of doubt and distrust.
and impatience, brought to life faith, and
contldence and calmness.
Women know so well how to torture
each other, they have such quickness to
find out the tender spot, I wonder they do
not study more the way to help. Since
through their own natures they know
much of every other woman's. I wonder
they do not love to pour the balm they
are one day pretty sure to need them
selves.
The day went by, the evening came on
soft and cool. The day had closed so dif
ferently from what Harrie had intended
that morning as she leaned on the gate.
What a long day it had been, and how
full of vexations; and was there any one
else in the little town who had such a
heavy heart as hers. She knew the Blakes
were expecting their guests now; that all
the girls were arraying themselves in their
prettiest dresses, and brightest smiles, and
she sat all forlorn, waiting to put the chil
dren to bed. after which she proposed
having a good time by Indulging in a cry.
The children were rather more exasperat
ing than usual; Susy wanted to hear sev
eral stories, and Lottie begged for a little
more play. Finally she compromised the
matter, by promising a double portion to
morrow night. and they succumbed.
Ilan ha. I not yet made his appearance.
Pretty soon he came, and wanted to see
Cousin Ilarrie, and tell her something.
lie commenced in a rounlabout fashion,
in this wise:
"I say, Harri , would you be awful mad,
if a fellow'd done a mean thing and was
sorry for it P'
"I don't know, I)an, maybe I wouldn't.
Whose been doing an awful mean thing?"'
"I have, but I didn't meuan to, and 'd
give anything if I could undo it," said the
penitent Dan.
"Well. I wouldn't feel so bad then,"
said Hiarrie, not intensely interested in
Dan's delinquencies. She concluded he
had fibbed, or ran away from school, or
"licked" some smaller boy which, accord
ing to his code of honor, was mean, or
borrowed some boy's fish line or gun
without asking, or some such heinous
offense; and so she was not just in the
mood for playing confessor.
' I say, Harrie, would you forgive a fel
ler? I was awftl mean, but I forgot to
give it toyou, and then I went a gunning,
and since that I'd forgot it. Ithought
'twas too late. any way. And I it
for waddin', and Oh, dear, I tell you I'm
dreadful sorry, and I couldn't say my
prayers till I told you."
"What in the world do you mean ?"
said Harrie, "please tell me all about it? I
don't understand a thing you say."
, Well, now, 'twas just this way.
When I was coming home from scbool
this noon, Will Wallace, that feller that's
always a eomin' up here to see you, you
know, was standin' on the tavern steps,
when he see me, he said, ' Oh, DI)an, walt
a minute, I wish you'd give tlhis little
note to your cousin. Missa Harrie. and I
said I wouldn't forget it, but I did."
"Oh! IDan," said Harrie.
" Just wait a minute," said the boy, who
by this time began to be interested in hisl
own story, "you aee I met the other boys,
and they coaxed me to go off with 'em,
and that old Mrs. Oilman was here to din
ner, and I was in a burry 'cause the bovy
was waltin', and I forgot all about It.
You don't care much, do you, Harrie
'Taint much matter, is it? 'Twas such a
little mite of a note, couldn't ha' been
much in i1"
Ah! Danhadyetto learn what allt
tie mite of a note could hold.
"What did you do with it, any way ~?
mMid Hlarri
" Wdl, I told you. I thoght 'twarni
o' a acomat, so we wanted a lttle wad
dia', ad, r Id,i'm duudael aery, Harri
I a -ale, ard l11 err do ao agalti
Th._ -- tears u 's lan, ad
Ileai m t M br h aew, I 3mb
Sreason for the change in hint. Perhaps it
was some fault in her, that he took that
way to tell her of. Perhaps it was a gool
)bye. and he trusted it to pen anid ink.
rather than his own lips. -She could never
knoiw. 4h)! carele.ss Dlan, your repent
an11 has won fiorgiveness, but what can
undo the mischief.
She" thought. how close and oppressive
the night is growing. She took off the
pretty blue percale that shlle h:ed put on
that afternoon with a faint hoepe at Ilher
heart, andl put on an ancient pink wrap
per; she took off the blue ribhons and let
down the mass of heavy soft hair that
was her greatest prideand beauty. Then
she went out on to thet little veranda, andt
though shet was as miserable as a doubt
ing. distrusttil and slightly fretfuil yvoung
woman 'ounll be., there was a gr:in of
comnfort in the thought that nobaly knew
it.
If she only could know what was in tllhe
note-if she only could.
Of course he was ldown there at tilh
party, and of course he would go back to
the city on the' one o'clock train, he al
ways did. and equally, of course, she'
would never see him again.
It was nine o'elhwk. Still she sat on
the porch, and from down the street shel
could hear the mus-ic. and almost h'ear the.
pat of thle dancers' feet. She couelhl see
them all there: girls in bright gay
dresses, and with gayer, brighter hearts.
I'lainerthan all the rest she could see
Mollie Black, and in her hair and on her
bosnom, were the flowers that had come
clown from the city that day : the flowters
Will Wallace had brought. Then she saw
heirself in her loneliness and vexation.
and sorrow; and tp stairs she saw the
white dires and the tlat-iron shapedl burn
that ruined it. She could not help smil
ing at the contrast in the pletures ; and
then was amazed to think she could
smile.
Pretty soon a sound that was wonde'r
fully familiar fell upon her ears. "Belle
Malhone" whistled as only Will could
whistle it, was coming nearer every min
eute, and in another the little wowlen rate'
swang as wide open as the state of its
hinges would admit, and Will Wallace
sprang upon the porch beside her.
" Well, llarrie. most ready for the
party ?" was his first salutation.
" I don't understand you. I'm not go
ing. You needln't wait," and II-.rrle's
voice began to choke a little with all her
eft rt to keep it steady.
" Needn't wait? What nonsense!
What is it little girl? Tell us all about it:
tirst let me ge't a look at you." and he
drew her into the moonlight much against
her will. "Dear me!" he exclaimed,
"you look like something between a mer
maid and a washer-woman-hair afloat,
arms bare, and the pink gown on that
you wore five years ago. Oh, IHarrie!
soniethingdreadful has happened I know,
to bring you to this." and he laughed
merrily. But headded tenderly in a mo
ment. "Come. let's divide the troubles.
Tell me all about it. Of course you got
my note?"
" No I didn't," said our brave Ilarrie,
breaking down. Now she had said
to herself over and over, that when
Mr. Wallace did come, if le ever
did. she would be very cool and calm,
and let him see that she could be as
indifferent as he could; all of which
She procededl to do by crying like a little
girl. " I didn't get your note, and I knew
you were in town for Mrs. Gilman met
you, and came right here and told me."
" Sie did eh! The meddlesome creature
did stop me, I remember, and I remember
also saying several things on purpose to
mystify her, never thinking it could do
any harm. I wrote you a note telling you
that I had come down on business for the
firm; that I had not an hour to spare or I
would come up-you ought to have known
that-and that I would be up to go with
you to the party, even if I came a little
late, and here I am ; but where is your
party attire? You look pretty to me, of
course, but your dress would hardly be
considered the thing at the Blake mansion,
Hlow does it happen that my note did not
reach voun? Dan assured me with fervor
that lie never forgot anything, and you
should have it. However, I broughtdown
the loveliest flowers for you,and meant you
should wear them to-night. I renembered
your passion for pansies; and truly, llar
rie, I couldn't bear to send them up to
you for I wanted to see your delight over
them myself. See, Harrie," and he took
up the little hasket, where a boquet for
the hand and flowers for the hair and neck,
lay among moss and leaves.
" Oh, dear!" sighed Harrie, "Dan took
the note off gunning and used it up for
wadding and other things, he says, and I
never knew of it till he confessed at bed
time. I have tormented myself all day,
and just because I've been doubting, I've
lost my evening's pleasure. and more than
all, made you lose yours, too."
•' By no means," said Will. "I expect
to enjoy the evening vet-what is leftk
though perhaps not lust as I planned. I
think you did not o me quite justice;
but I am going to blame your aunt anmd
Mrs. Gilman for it, for I can imagine that
their remarks would tend to shake one a
faith a trifle, eh .
" Will," said Harrie, solemnly, "I have
been miserable, an cross,and hateful all
day."
'Haven't you stated that blackward,"
asked Will.
S"No, I haven't, but I haven't stated it
just right, either, for I did commenee the
day with good nlatentions. Indeed, even
my little corner of the world looked bet
ter and brighter than usual this morning,
and my heart was full of sunshine, that I
meanm to keep all day. But everything
went wrong. Ant wa a trile more Irri
tating than usual. Mrs. GOlmancameandm
told me you had come, and brought the
beeatifiulls flowers to Mollie Blake."
"You ought to have known better."
"Then she told me I was not looking
well-looked peaked."
"She shall e arrested for slander."
"And you did not come, nor send me
any word, and the children were cross,
and Slusy made me tell stories till I w-s
hoarse, till finally, I gave her a good
shakinig."
"Oh! you dreadful girl! shake the
poor little thing," said Will. mockingly.
"And I burnt a big hole in my white
muslin dress, because I was so eross and
reckless."
"Oh. dire confessions, when will they
end? Burnt a big hole in her best drets,
because I didn't-"
"Stop! I haven't fnished. Then when
Dan went to bed, he told me that he had
taken your note, gunning, and used it up
for wadding and things. And, and-"
"Well, Harrie, what did 7ou do then?"
asked Will, curiously.
"I kissed bhim, and told him I'd forgPde
bhim, for be wasso sorry. I eoulidn'th p
it, and I felt too bad b that tIme, f
· anger or reenment," amidrri.
"Not so ba a record, aterall. You
Sdid get eas, I'm iafrai, bt yeo arried
eondamie to ll I would reom.
I mead a good deal i im ad ahov
m a ,heM bmA g frward to a day
tht ims I I e.I egtota
ftmtmbhhY mdwhI
promnie mhei. however, that tilhe next time
:in 1nv.1 gl y-ip comells to Vyou with Ineom
trt:aihle stories about youmr best friends.
Vyou'll have' more calodthlldee than you've
ilha ta-dav. will you'"
"'Ye', Will. I know I w:las Iwllsh." said
llarrih.
S'.Andl. hiLrrie. vaut'll Ie rady one ot
these days ane giv.' up thedelighlt.s of this
Imhomle for :'t oth r r?"
Il:rriv's atllnswr is nlt aon rec*orl. hut
it wa~ pradbaly sa:tiikectory. They
talkedl till iup tiltm' .tret they hmeard the.
voie,': of tile returning pa:rty-.'a Yrs.r when
Will -ked. "" Are the cloud-l ill gone.
Hlarri. ?"
"i t" 1', eve rv one."
"l ' ll donl't fal mlisier:hle, antd cross,
anl! hlate fll any more ?"
-Nt a hit. Thelw ,!:j i enlin; a- it Iw
t:ml. in Ipe':ac :unml +wela"t cIi tJl eI It."'
"It'- ac:sy ,.noi h. Ilarrie,.'" -slhl Will.
"tit teI :umni:hale whena l tlt-' - is maatiting tao
try the te'llln 'r: it'- ,'a-y a l' eio ihI to trl-t
oulr f'rien'- when notlm ahi! ma' ala to to-t
mlr a'llltel . It'.: mais n-a augh to ti atll
with the cuirent ; it's rawimlg agains t thie
tide that t'.e-t our ,strength, our patience.
antll atar cour.i're'."
I 'p in helr roo-m that night liarrie took
th. llowetrs, which, thoumgh fadelt. now
hel a heaart-tull tof con·trt to her. andI
punt the.m into water. saying softly to her
-ilf. :atn! tihe wordI were at rayer.-"lIt's
rowintg again t tie i that te tat tst our
strengthl. our ipatilaen. :tand or enlragre.
-Cort",tta Perry. in Milaukteer Monthly.
"Top Knott, Come Dowa !"
Tmtta:a is harily anything in the world
so tbaatitul as the head of a beautiful
woman, or even of a pretty woman, or a
fine well-ftrmed woman. The firm pure
curves, the p-,ise" upon the neck, the
gentle sweep of cheek andt chin, the fine
air of womanho tat tt there isi in it al
most always. even In those eases in which
the face and tihe figure, the limbs andl the
extremities, are not beautiful-all these
nmake it one of tie most truly admirable
things in nattme. And yet it seems to be
one of the prime objects of woman in
dressing, one of the chief ends of her ex
istence, to destry all that she can of the
beatuty of her form, to conceal the grace
of its movement, and to deprive it of all
that characteristic exp ression which is its
indefinable glory. It is one of those
things the simple and absolute beauty of
which cannot be enhanced by any ad
dition. and any modification of which is
deterioration. Yet (except d(luring the
best days of Greece). since the dispersion
at IBabel, she has been beset with the de
sire to put some monstrous or ridleulous
tihings upon it. or so to arrange her hair
that, for all its beauty of form and move
ment, her head might as well be a cocoa
nut. She regards it merely as a block
upon which she can put something that
will attr:act attention. not to her head,
but to itself. Heaven has made her head
a crown of beauty, if not of glory, and
she. in her miserable vanity, covers it
with a bushel of false hair or of linery.
One chief beauty of her head is that it is
small; lmhereupon she does all that she
can to make it look as large as possible.
Its outlines. from the forehead backward.
whether over the crown or from the
temples. are among the most beautiful
curves in nature, and they are distinctive
of her sex ; whereupon she, with perverse
and inexhaustible ingenuity, hides these
lines by a chaotic andt formless mass of
ringlets and twists and frizzes and rats
and switches. and nameless abominetion,
Anything but to have her head ioot
simply like a woman's head! What could
be more beautiful than the mingled dainti
ness and dignity of its poise upon the
imt k, what moWre grar.fuli than the curves
by which the junctkion is imperceptibly
effee'te'l But all this it seems the cher
isheid purpose of her life to hild.
For years past a sack of hair has hung
down between her ears upon lner should
era, nin king her look as if she werecarry
in a hurden, not upon her head, as she
might with grace. but hitched on behind
it. WalkilIg behind a woman for a con
siderable part of the last decade, one could
not be sure whether she had any neck, or
whether there were not some hideous
reason for its concealment. To the
great joy of all who take delight in
womentl's beauty. it was announced that
the fiat had gone forth in Paris that
thi" monstrosity was to be abatedl, and
that artificial chignons were to be con
signed to dust-heaps and oblivion. And
when we were told that the hair was to
be drawn togethler in a knot, we rejoiced
in the hiope of seeing a woman's head
again. Vain hope! We did not know
the sex thalt is not content to have even
its own beauty admired for its own sake.
We looked for a change from extrava
gance to simplicity, from artifice to na
ture. When it calme, it was merely a
chmange from one extravagance to another;
tile substltion of a monstrous thing
ulpon thqwad fr a monltrols thiing be
hinld it'. Whereas bafore a Imlal was car
ried upon tihe napel of the wieck. now a
hundle is carried upon the top of the ha'ad.
Where before the "back hair" was all vio
lently dragged down, it is now all vio
lently dragged up, strainedl in tight.
straight lines to the top of the hIead, land
there, by such fiendish contrivances hair
dressers can master, twisted into a shape
less something that looks like a cannon
wad or a demorallaed mop; and,when
she has accomplished this, every woman
goes about with a virtuous air. exhaling
an odor of irreproachability. The result
is that the end o much desired of woman
-the destruction and utter abolishment
of the natural beauty of her head-Is
again perfectly attained.
There is but one way to dress a full
grown woman's hair without destroying
some of the beauty of her head-that is, to
partt it in front and draw it slmply.and
withoutornament or torture of any kind,
ina knot behind the ears.and jms? above
the nape of the neck. Were I autocrat,
that would be the one sumptumary law that
I would enact; and thereupon all the
men in the country would rie up andl
call me blessed. But if the penalty for ,.
violation of the law were that the womla.
should be beheaded, I fear that I wam d
soon reign over a uiation of h s.(.~k s
women. For I do verily beli,.v. '' sl
woman would rather be withou, bead
than forlego tbe privilege o . kIdagl I
look like something other ani diler than
It is.-Cor. N. Y Grtpie.
ALMOmD BI.AC MA - -" ....
cream. Soften in a small portit ',c'
cream (cold) two oun~mr of ial?
Have ready blanched tw, mandr a swe
almonds, with twodoua' and ia, l U
kernels or bitter lhomrus. Beat -
line in a mortar, with a little rome ug
to prevent their oling. i'atthe ailUs el
cream with the melti _ig a t
ppmerving kettle ever 4' I*.'r. i
until perfeet ('!yao.-ed,. -ia.: .'*-"
while one lpou id s q'ser " e '* o
sIuga. IA the . p*.* anmeoa hst 8
nla the almI "d-a -it.hiV Uatm ya tae
the lae-mara e fre 9*W tre- aIt .M
In a howl o W.nl,sthrrlq
IlSarretate
A Story of the Maestro Julien.
IT was the middle of .lJuly, I14~.1, when
all London was stirred by the' gramnd ova
tion which had just comelt' ofi'in hlonolr oft
the " Lion C'oncet g;iver," that ia tall,
raw-boedl man might hlave il .t ee
walking down one of the narrow -treet.t
of that foggy metrot altli'. alterately thol -
minlg to himslielf little lsnatIhes of nielldv,
and topplinig to gaze. at the -igns over Ith,.
idoors. l'retty -aoln hlie t'nle to the lmll-ii
store of I'ratier. lititleh . h'klapple'. anl
strtod heavily inll, the' largte.Il. nail- in the
bottom of his silhos mlal;, ilng liu1ict "ill
thatt part prf tof theownil.'
" Ilillio. mI a !" said he. in hel 't lthrl:iti
Yorkshire di:ale., toia trade-a*' t bhat in'
thf t'at I cullliar ash yl cililtitl" ,s illy llIll
the awter, ilho wtaic illtiti-atd lltehain
ta new and hetilr t'anrs byvinl thate li:t
E i..i g lt.n ¢ :1" :l I'r t.i i-lpitae toº .l1li'1"'s ai-'
panlk:t. "ar i o t till e it i. 1e-ther
- No. he i ill ot. -it. heiit't o tt hall r
row. litl'yo" wishIto sree " lal Ii"
h ulr. -e'.l aw wItih lilet to"r hea:i
e, he itne tinlre . e l l :ia - htl rle lie. l
outie I ells ioo tromu rihe" l-ien oltin
'nYel, the rsail-s net wkink; ll t who
loes tt intere s him. " said Mr. ch:"lad.
i manl of brawny tlinb, with ali :tntpletxion
motive that le uldr iiashy eti slightly l w
grimedt with coal. which indicated that
loe hadi cutome for years beyond the n light
and warmth of the s.tlt.
m Wulate he in again tilo-day?" inltuir vt.
"No. he will not-vnot wi' 're ato-tmor
row. iood could you wish to s ?. him ?"
" Wuli, ye'ai, aw woodt lik to," said
twinke, hesitale o tingly. "They talk eyn t
bout ,s oo to loon, triot's nowther heretin
ued.
no thYes, he sail next week; but sumow
pl-te, say w hgan to be crious :oit the
motive that coul" prompt such a routh
king cundtomer to seea' the man of uine
maculte kids ad irthe roachable oivet.
reply.
" like to go over to America with him?
Pray what good could you do you ?" said
Mr. Chapple, with ass bond, expression aswe nar
contempt as ws covan sistor nt with good a
breeding.
" Wull, aw think aw cood doJun a good
deal o' good," said he with a knwill ngt
twinkle of the eye.
publsow? You crtanly tii o not look
like a musician."
SWturnedull, away to looks, thot's nowther here
nor there, but aw blow't ophaiclkw sum
s-they say whoam-ed, atter ton ony a an
in t'coonty."
mentAh, indeed ! What's your business ?"
"Aw woof in the ountal moand, ove."r a
"Yes; ft ll, how much do you earn in
a week ?"
"rhAbout sxteen shillin'. And then, too,
aw belong to a brass bond, and we make
summat by gi'en van or two converts a
week."
"m i thatink sir that Mr. ullen has en
fgagU all the help he wants, and will not
publisher, having satistled his cureosity,
turned away to his business, as If he
had alreatidy pent too nch time to littly
mar Yorkinhireman very awkwardly
scratched his head, and stodi for a mo
ment, as if underided what to do, but
at length took a w'w steps toward the end
of the counter, and, ping over a pileTh o
music, behisnd which Mr. hapl were had
taken raised it to his lips, said to him:gato
of erhaps ye moght jus hardke to hear
me play a bit. 'inm ve'll gi' me on
instrumentime, aw'l show strone what aw theon
do."
The "Brequest wal this ma bego by-natuote,"dly
made that Mr. Chapple could harderelety ear
fue, so he him im up stanri, auln gave him
an old ophicleide, which, atera moment's
inspection, he threw down, jocoely re.
throuGan aw' wastnish owd brass. lieroom,
mon, cu e us a goodmarvelous uurn."
Lapingle cligingly comprovised. The
Yorks rieman too the piece of shining
metal in his huge haneres, that were hard
ened, cracked, and blackened with toil,
and rathed it to hise liavps played a legato
air with such a purity of toe and beaurty
of expression that it was hard to tell
which entilment was strongest in the
mind of the listener-csurprise or toe
light. "But all this may be by rote,"
thought Mr. Chapple. "Here let me hear
tord ve him a new a very diult solo for
The orunds a weeman glaned it once
througappe;, and atonihhe his lisener by
executinag it with marvelous accuracy,
capping the climax by improvising a florid
and appropriate cadehim, ive za.
"Zounds! sa) kl Chapple. Monrth ieur
Julienmust hear you. Call to-rsh rm w
noon, and he'll be here."
al?" aid the pertourmer, a hrd atro on
lof the room, and he gave vent to a broadqi
tones of opphi hicidi det, wre i th -m u
room. Julien, after htaring imn
hands. "'apital. MOl IJeu, " est es
and f ve him five poumd a week.
lve pounds a week!. exclaled Mr.
Sone-quarter o the a
"aiNever mind that Jull a
The Wsme W ee-boued Yo
tones of lb ophideide.
CnllI
a• t -'he.
I'
I- •'
95almni