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lowa County Democrat.
#./ VOL. XII. Tin: 001. D Til A T WEARS. Wo luirli'd one eve .it the garden gate When the (lew was on the heather. And I promised my love to comeback to her Kre the pleasant autumn weather— That we twain might wed When the leaves were red, And live and love together. She cut me a tress front her nnt-hrown hair, As 1 kissed her lips of cherry. And gave her a ring of the old-time gold. With a stone like the mountain berry As clear and L'lue As her eyes were title Sweet eyes so bright and merry ’ • The wealth of my love is all I hate To give yon,'' she said, in turning: ■•The gold that wears -like the radiant stars in yonder blue vault burning!" And I took the trust Asa mortal must Whose son! for love is yearning. Fate kept ns apart for many years. And the bine sea rolled between ns. Though I kissed each day the mit-hrown tress. And ■ b* fresh vow s to Ventts- Ttll I sought my bride. And Fate defied. That had failed from love to wean ns. I found my love at the garden gale When the dew was on the heather. And we twain were wed at the little k'rk In the pleasant autumn weather; And I he gold that wears Now soothes my cart's, As we live and love together. /‘/tilaihlp/iiii Timef AUT. Aunt Kcraiuili’s Studios. Mrs. K. V t'orhett in Harper’s Magazine for April. It is perhaps a year ago -moo 1 drop ped in to call upon Mrs. K. ouo even ins?, and found her poring over that fatal volume, “ First Stops in Household Art.’’ 1 say fatal advisedly, for, inno cent as the hook seemed, it was destined to poison mij peace of mind, and to cost my poor aunt much pain and misery in the days to come. But, happily unconscious as yet of the trouble in store, my aunt looked up from her hook cm my entrance, and ex claimed; “0 Frederic, I’m soglad you’ve come! 1 want you to road this charm mg hook, and thou to tell mo what you think of it. W hat stupid mistakes 1 have boon making till those years. Why, I soo now that I did not comprehend the first principles of Art, not oven its alphabet. Hut I will begin at once, 1 will refurnish this house in accordance with my new ideas, and Hum. Frederic, my dear, you shall see —what you shall sec.” Somewhat puzzled, 1 began to ques tion, but for all answer my aunt thrust the “ First Steps in Household Art, into my hand, and bade me read and be convinced. Dutifully I turned over a page or two, but I found their contents decid edly mystifying. Meanwhile my aunt was running on glibly, in what seemed to me an unknown tongue. 1 tried my best to turn the conversation into more familiar channels, but in vain. He naisance, bric-a-brac, dados, portieres, tpieeu Anno mirrors, coves, Kastlake, Morris wall-papers, decorative Art —the latter pronounced with a capital A— these succeeded each other w ith start ling rapidity, until at last I rose to take leave, feeling almost anxious about my aunt’s sanity. It so happened that I was obliged to leave town early the next day on urgent business, so I did not see her again for nearly a week. But what a. surprise awaited me! 1 started in helpless amazement when the door was opened in answer to my ring, and should have apologized for getting into the wrong house bad not John’s smiling vissage reassured me. He alone was unchang ed. But what meant this transforma tion ? The elegant carpets and curtains had disappeared; so had the luxurious chairs and lounges; so had the superb mirrors, the valuable pictures,—in fact, all the furniture and ornaments of which my aunt had been so proud. In their places I beheld ugly old Dutch clocks, clumsy carved furniture ponderous and grim of aspect, sconces holding candles whose dim light only made one regret the gas, and tiny mirrors in queer frames. Old china plates were sus pended all over the walls, Japanese cab inets stood here and there, and in place of the polished grate with its eannel coal fire, an enormous fire-place now yawned before me. its sides ornamented with tiles, the tall brass andiron and fender framing in a couple of blazing logs. The floor was dark and shiny, and terribly slippery, as I found out in a moment, so I stepped gladly on a dingy rug as an island of refuge. At one side of the fire, on a tall carved oaken “settle” sal my aunt looking blissfully content with her new sur roundings. “ Dn't it charming, Frederic? was her first question. Then: “ 1 found it all in that delightful book, —the one f was reading when you left me last week, you know, Fred? Did yon ever see 'tich a transformation ? " “Never, ' I replied, with considerable emphasis; “ hut are you quite sure, my dear aunt, that you find yourself u comfortablo as formerly? Thi* article of furniture, is for instance,” —touching the back of the wooden settee, —“ isn't it a little hard, just a little, hard and un accommodating? Don't you miss your delightfully easy chairs, now’ •* Frederic,” said my aunt, with a mingling of reproof and surprise in her tones —“ Frederic, can you be so insensi- ! ble to the value of true household Art as to regret the furniture I have discard-1 MINERAL POINT, WIS., FRIDAY, APRIL IS), IS7S. ed ? Ah. my dear hoy, your words only prove to me your lamentable want of culture —the dullness of your a'sthetic perceptions, in fact, and 1 shall do my best to ethicale you to a higher piano in Art." My aunt shivered perceptibly a> she finished; and no wonder, for the room was really eold, " You are chilly, l.et me open the register: or shall I tell John io pul some coal in the furnace V" 1 asked, rising from my scat at once. But Mrs. K, stopped me, with another shiver as site did >O. " Nonsense 1" she replied, shortly; “ 1 am quite warm enough; besides, 1 have had the furnace taken out. It is the greatest of modern abominations, and 1 could not permit it to remain in a dwelling devoted to artistic furnish ing. Is not this charming wood lire a delightful substitute?" and so saying she sneezed. *■ How I miss your pictures I" 1 ven tured to say next. 1 fell so disconcert ed by the strangeness of all about me that I made this remark with real tim idity. My aunt was more reproachful than before, she said "Have you noticed the dado and frieze, Frederic? That cove over the fireplace is a marvel of art, and then my china plates are perfectly in keeping with the tone of the apartment,while my pictures were not." “ But you had some lovely pictures, aunt: two, especially, by lirinze and Bouguoran were real gems. Couldn't you have given them a place?" ‘‘No; for the highest Art demands that each room he treated, as a whole, and that a certain ‘ tone,' once adopted, shall never he sacrificed to any lessor considerations; and it was in accord ance with this maxim that 1 took down my pictures,” said my aunt, with a lofty smile at my weakness. 1 was discomfited, but 1 tried once more: ” 1 think, though, that you might have kept your carpets. Those waxed floors are so treacherous, and then the comfort of walking on your superb Ax minsters—” But now my aunt was thoroughly out of patience, and she interrupted me sharply: “Yon astonish me, Frederic; you have so little appreciation of our feeling for the best Art. Carpets, in deed 1 utterly inadmissible in a proper ly treated apartment. Now these rugs—” But it was my turn to interrupt: “ Do yon call that dingy square a m/, aunt? Why 1 thought it was a hit of carpet out of John’s pantry, left here by mis take.” “ Thou lot mo toll you that ‘ that dingy square of carpet’ is a relic of priceless value, sir. It was once the prayer-rug of an Arab chief, and it cost mo over $1,000," answered my aunt, look in;; really displeased. “ One—thousand—dollars !” I echoed, in dismay. “Oh, what a- " Hut I stopped in time to reflect, and the last word remained unultered. After all. my aunt was rich enough to throw away a few thousands when she chose, and what a fool I should lie if I angered her by ill-timed or unwelcome criticism on her acts! So 1 'Hastened to retrieve my error, ami, by dint of judicious admiration of the famous rug, and many appreciative comments on the plates, clocks, cabi nets, etc., I installed myself once more in my aunt’s good graces, so that the remainder of the evening passed plea santly enough. Nevertheless, I was conscious of a good deal of perplexity and annoyance when I thought over the whole inter view next day. and the result of my thinking was a determination (• watch over my aunt as closeiy as possible without becoming obtrusive or exciting her suspicions. Well, in accordance with my resolu tion, 1 went up there the next day in time for dinner, if she urged mo to stay, as I knew she would. I found Mrs. Kerammik terribly hoarse, but refusing to believe that the harn-like atmosphere of her house had anything to do with her severe cold. Several workmen were busily engaged taking out the plate glass windows and replacing them with sashes set wiih tiny diamond shap ed panes of very poor glass. Wide leaden settings connected these mina- Hire panes, which were, to my think i ing, exceedingly ugly. I hinted as much when she asked me to admire I them, and was sorry for it the next ‘ moment. For my aunt quoted so large ly from the “ First .steps," etc., that I was overwhelmed and actually pretend ed to be convinced to avert the gather ing storm. 1 went home that night with a copy of the horrid hook in my pocket, and an earnest injunction to study it carefully. “For your percep tion of true Household Art is very dull my dear Frederic," sail! my aunt, pity ingly, as we parted, From that time each visit 1 paid my aunt made me more and more melan choly, while I found the house more and more uncomfortable. Mr*. K.s art studies were always necessitating some change, which she called improve ments, but which to those about her was always a little worse than the best fancy. It would he impossible as well as useless to describe her progressive step—if that may be called progressive which was always retrogressive, for it was ever to remoter agts, to more ob- solete and comfortless spies of living, that my poor aunt incliiu.l. One room in her hon e had always been placed at my disposil. but the first time I occupied it after his art fever had seized upon her I vis fairly eon-! founded. The fnrnittm had disap- i peered completely. A peal clumsy carved chest did duty for the very ! handsome dressing huroai; a tiny plate : of polished steel replaced the eheval-‘ glass; an attenuated staid holding a basin, and reminding oneivresistibly o! a dentist's apparatus, wa a wretched substitute for the stationary wash-stand 1 with its abundant snpny of Croton; while some tnree-legged stools passed for chairs* Although 1 had long ben persuaded of the folly of unwise opposition I could not help remonstrating vith my aunt that time. A least yon might hive left me the Croton, aunt," ! declare!, after vain ! representations of my discomfort Mnt she only replied, sweetly "1 couldn't, my de:r nephew, i couldn't. 77m/was so horrible out of j keeping with the rest o’ tne appoint ments! Yon can’t mix the centuries mi that inartistic way." So things went on, from had to worse, until at last the very rug.-disappeared, and the doors were all stmvn with what my aunt called rushtv, but which 1 ignorantly and nnheliev ugly termed 1 haii. Then 1 congratulate! myself that we had reached a climax and eonld fare no worse; hut 1 was i listaken: One day on entering the parlor, ) was conscious of a very disagreeable | odor, j us! such a perfume, in fact, as j one might expect to obtain by distilling i half a dozen tern ment-lioiises and as! many emigrant-ships and bottling the result, 1 soon found llmt this fragrance was due to sonii' fearfully dirty and (al tered hangings, evidently x now acquisi tion, which draped the walls, and made the appartment look like a veritable rag-shop. When my mint came down 1 ven tured, in the most delicate manner, to call her attention to this unpleasant peculiarity ot her new possessions, and to ask if a Utile fumigation might not he advisable. Such a look as site gave me! Then she said, severely: “ Kmlerie, those hangings are in valuable. They are so old that their age is involved in tho|iui-i-sof antiquity. It is, however, probable Mint they were atone time in the posses' >n of William the Conqueror, for here in this corner you can seethe remains of his mono gram. Kook, here is pjfrt of tho Wand one curve of the C;”and my mint lifted one* end of the worn and faded fabric with the tenderest t are imaginable, and held it up for inspection. “ Yes, yes, I see. llcmarkahly dis tinet," i answered, shrinking from nearer contact. “Ofcourse they are a great prize, mid nnoo’iimon treasure; hut—as they are so ivryold- don’t yon think my dear mint, yon might better havi them washed, just to uisdpate tho dust of the centuries, yon know ?" “ No, indeed," she replied, with an admiring glance al her hangings. “ Not for tin* world would I allow such an outrage. Yon don’t seem to compre hend, Krederie, that this very odor of which yon so unreasonably complain is the truest evidence of their age, and to lose it would he to lose half the proof of their genuineness.” I said no more, i inhaled that per vasive odor in silence, but I made up my mind to see the family physician at once, and give him a hint of my mint’s mental condition. However, before long the obnoxious hangings came down in accordance with anew whim. On paying my usual visit, J found Mrs. Kerammik seated on a pile of skins at one side of the room. Similar piles of skins occupied every corner, some of them (leaped high as conches. In the centre stood a rude chest, evidently doing duty as a table. Mere and there, on the now bare walls, hung stuffed birds, horns, I and Inure shells, It took me some time i to see all this, for the only illumination proceeded from some torches scattered | about the apartment, and producing as ! much smoke as light. Having made out to reach the pile of skins upon w hich my aunt was sitting, I sal down beside her, and ventured to ask the meaning of this last transformation. “ because," shy said, decidedly, “ I have found out that in a return to pri mitive forms and usages alone the high est Art consists. Depend upon it, Ki"- dcric, our chairs and conches, onr ta bles and buffets, are hut the unnatural outgrowth of too much civilization. Life free, nntrammcled. artistic, wi l( have none of these absurd and cum brous appliances,—these commonplace, comfortable surroundings. We must go back, hack of these arbitrary forms, and make ourselves indeneiulent of them, if we would reach the best, the only true, artistic culture.” Mv aunt’s enthusiasm did not affect me. 1 only asked if I might dine with her the next day, which request had a purpose hidden beneath it, and, receiv ing tier permission, I left. This nurpose of mine was merely to persuade my anal to go abroad for a time. I had great faith in change of air and scene, and I hoped that, if she con sented to take the voyage, her cure might be effected without the aid of a physician. V DANISH I.F.DKND. Once upon a tiiuo. a Danish knight was iilnml to ho iniirried to tho prettiest damsel in all Denmark, and. according to tln> custom of tho country, ho rode about from otto house to tho other porsonally inviting all his guests. Thoro was to ho a danooand a toast after tho ivroniony, and everyone ho know mnst ho hidilon. IK'rodo many miles that day, and after nightfall found himself on the farther side of a great wood which everyone said was haunted hy elves, and where thoro was indeed a fairy ring, as anyone eonld see who jehoso to look tor it. Some neoplo would havehooti afraid to ride through tho wood at night, but Sir Dial' was a brave man, so he spurred on his white horse and rodo into the wood. the moon was rising; her while beams penetrated the branches and faintly illuminated the path. Thex fell upon his tine faeo and his long, fair, (towing hair; his bine eves sparkled, he w as thinking of the girl he loved and of his coining wedding day. Suddenly a sound tell upon his ear that broke his reverie; it was the sound of innsie strange, delicate, beautiful innsie. The horse heard it and began to show signs of terror, but Sir Olaf lode on, looking al out him carefully, for he eonld not think that these delicate harps and bugles were played upon by human hands, and the tunes w ere all strange and elfish. So, ran the old legend, did the Klf King's daughter play to win the hearts of any men who rode through the Klf wood after nightfall "Mill my heart they cannot win,"said Olaf, "for that belongs to my true love. I have no fear of the Klf King's daugh ters." Mnl Just as he spoke, lie came into a clearing in the wood; there was the fairy ring; a llood of moonlight, fell across it; and there he saw three boun tiful maidens, all in green, playing upon strange and delicate instruments, while in the midst of the ring stood one still more lovely, who held out her arms to him. “Welcome, welcome, Sir Olaf," she cried, "alight from your hoist* and come hither. lam the Klf King’s daughter, and it is my will that thou shouldsi come into the ring and dance w ith me. It is an honor givi n to few mortals." Mnt Sir Olaf remained in his saddle, only bowing low to the Klf Maiden. "I cannot dance with you," he ssid. "I cannot even stay. To-morrow is my wedding day, and I must ride home to mv bride.” “Your hride is very fair, doubtless, Sir Olaf,” said the Klf maiden, “hut am 1 not fairer? Light down, sir Olaf, and danee with me, and I will give thee two golden spurn, and a rwhe of whit* silk that the fairy queen lias hleaehed in tlie moonshine, as a wedding jift for thy lady.” “Many thanks, lovely Klf maiden,” said the knight, "hut I must ride on. I eannol stop noon my wedding eve to danee or talk with thee. (iood night.” And he would have ridden on, hot now the Klf maiden advanced and caught the horse hv the hndle. “Light down, Sit <)laf,” said she, “and 1 will give thee gold. Thon shall have more gold than thon has ever hoped to have, for thon art hnt poor, though thou art so hrave. Dance in the ring with me, and thon ahull he rich.” “ Nay,” replied Sir Olaf, " 1 have told thee it is my wedding eve, 1 can dance with none hnt my hride. Let go my bridle, good Klf maiden, and farewell.” lint now the beautiful eyes of the fairy woman sparkled with rage. “If thou will not danee with me, SirOJftf,” she said, “ thou shall remem ber me. The man who will not take the Klf maiden's kiss shall have the Klf stroke from her hand," Then she rove on tiptoe and struck him over the heart, and cried, “(Jet thee home to thy hride.” Away sped the horse, hut Sir Olaf sat upon him pale and without motion; jins hand no longer held the bridle; his | eyes saw nothing; his lips were dumb; Ia w hite corpse seemed to ride upon the while steed in the moonlight. All night those who awaited for the coining of Sir Olaf watched for him in vain; the day dawned, and he had not come; but so brsve a knight would never fail his bride. The feast was spread; the wine was poured; the bride was dressed; the guests arrived. Where tarried Sir Olaf ? Those who knew that he had ridden into the Klf forest at moonlight felt their hearts grow weary; but as all eyes turned to wards the wood there came forth from it a white horse winch all knew to he .Sir < (laf's. It was ridden by a knight who seemed to he frozen in his saddle; he Was white to the lips; his w ide-open eyes stared at nothing. The horse came on and paused in their midst, and as though some un seen thing had until that moment sup ported him, the knight fell forward upon liis face. It was Hir Olaf. “ He is dead !” shrieked the bride. “ Dead ! Dead !” shrieked the mother. “ Dead !” chorused the guests. And they wept over him as he lav in their midst, and cried, “There will he no wedding, but a funeral the funeral ot the bravest ami best beloved knight in Henmark." I'ben the bride lore hei hair and seat tered her jewels upon the ground, but there uprose in the midst of the quests an old, wise woman, who had lived more than a hundred years. Her long, may hair fell down on either sidi' of her head bands, her eheeks were wrinkled, and shi' was hent double; but her shrill voiee tilled all the plaee. Listen to me, oh, triends," she said. •• I know what yon know not. The hrave young knight, Sir Olaf, has met the Klf maidens m the wood, and has had the Klf stroke. To even man who rides through the wood after night do the Klf maidens call. 1 Koine and danee,' they ery. ' Koine and danee.’ " ' Vud whether they dance or not, they give them the Klf stroke over the heari. Only there is tins difference; It is well known to all wise people, the man who is untrue to Ids wife or his love is dead, and all the doetors in Henmark eannot restore him. Hut one who is ipnle true, who, there in the darkness of (he wood, with the Klf maidens only to look upon him, and the beautiful eyes of the Klf King’s daughter looking into ids, is utterly true, and neither kisses her soli lips, or danees with her. or takes from her gift or ring, him the lips of hi- true ]ove may bring to life again. “ Ihe bride has but to kiss him. and he lives again, t tidy," said ihe old, wise woman, shaking her head, " in my lime none have come to lift' agam. All have died who have had Ihe Klf stroke." Hut if thy words be (me, old woman. Sir Olaf w ill breathe onee more," cried the bride; " lor he is true as steel. I know my knight. I have no doubt of him." And she knidl beside her pallid lover, trembling and weeping, and showered kisses on his lips, while all stood about in silence, scarcely daring to breathe, And under these kisses the while lips grew red again; the pale checks Unshed, life sparkled in those fro/.en eyes. The bride fell her knight'siireath up on her cheek. " Wise woman thou hast spoken Ihe truth," she cried; “even the Klf stroke eannot harm Ihe true heart, and my Olaf is true ns the steel of his own good blade.” Then up rose Sir Olaf, strong and fair as ever, and took his bride by the hand, and far in the Klf wood were heard strange, wild sounds, the Klf King’s daughters shrieking with rage; for they, like the old wise woman, had never be lore known one so true as to refuse their kisses and their gold. Two War-Anecdotes. New York Ti llmnr The editor of one of the leading month ly magazines tells ini', Ilia I ho linn lately been receiving letters threatening him with tlm destruction of lilm house if he publishes iiny morn articles hy Mr. (iltnUlone. 'ln the first letter he paid no attention, hnt when two or three more of the saniesort eame, he went olf to the great hi he nil and seenred a fresh e.ontrihnlion from liim, which will an pear in April. Mr. (iliidHlonomay reek on this among the. incidental advantag es of hia unpopularity with the Turkish muh. I aay Turkish instead of Tureo phil, as somebody has lately been pro testing against the use of these new ad jeetives, and there is realy next to no difference in meaning between Turkish, Anglo Turkish, and Tnreonhil. They are different expressions o| the same kind of madness. Hot Mr. (Hailstone's magazine papers have perhaps a little wearied the patience of his most faith ful admirers. The future historian will have to consider why it is that a man who speaks so well writes so j||. The other story relates to Mr. Height, lie was asked lodine last week with the Princess houise, and a smart party was mode for him, mostly Duchesses, I believe. One of these great ladies pres ently began, as the fashion now is, to abuse Mr. (iladstone. Mr. Hrighl in his grave way, asked this personage: “ Ma dam, have yon any eliildrenr Hhe ad mitted she had. "Then permit me, Madam, to advise you to take them on the first opportunity where they may see Mr. (iladstone, and when they are in his presence say to them they are standing before one of the greatest Eng lishmen who ever lived, and who has done his country perhaps the greatest service it was ever permitted an English man to do, by preserving it from a wan ton and wicked war." Mr. Hrighl has done a good many plucky tilings in his time, and this deserves, all things con sidered, to he reckoned among them. For it was said not only in a circle o ( Anglo-Turks, hut in the hearing ofa hos tess who must be presumed to share the violent prejudice of the rest of the royal family against the man whom her guest eulogized so warmly. Hut Mr. Bright’s admiration for Mr. (iladstone and a (fee lion for him are of old date. No man can he chosen Commander of the Chinese Legion of Honor who has linger nails less than four inches long. Kuieotr, the phonograph man, is a tremendous worker. It is always to with genius. NO. 3l>.