Southern ladies' journal., July 02, 1887, Page 6, Image 6

About Southern ladies' journal. (Little Rock, Ark.) 1886-18??

Image provided by: Arkansas State Archives

                
6
“ But the canty hearth,
Where cronies meet
And the darling o’ our eye,
It makes to me a world complete—
0, the ingle side for me.”
For some time she sang to me while
I lay in this bliss of happy contentment.
There was a large picture over the man
tel—a country scene of water, with a
sunset glow over it. Some cows had
come down to drink; two large oaks
stood in the foreground of the picture,
but everything in the painting indicated
the drowsy rest of sunset, while the light
of a golden roseate hue shone soft and
radiant from the evening clouds.
The music, the warmth, the still life
upon which my eye rested, produced a
dreamy indolence, and in this frame of
mind and body I slept. The entrance of
the housemaid, with my lady’s basket of
keys and a pitcher of water, aroused
me.
“How long have I slept, Beatrice?”
“An hour; look at the clock. I stopped
playing some time since, and have been
reading. Will you have a glass of
water, and then let me read aloud?”
“With many thanks,” I replied as I
received the glass and returned it. “How
delightful and restful it is to be in my
own home! And with yon, Beatrice, so
entirely aloof from all the world beside.
What were you reading?”
“A little article in a magazine.”
“By the way, wife, we must commence
a library. I have enough books of my
own purchase to fill one case. As we
continue purchasing we can select, in
order to have shelves of philosophy,
science, biography and other works
bound in unison.”
“I wonder, husband, if I will find
much time to read, with my housekeep
ing, my garden and my chickens—and
I must sew some. I love to sew. At
papa s, Aunt Ethel helped me so much
that I had plenty of time.”
“Beatrice, you must have an hour or
more of reading. Mark that in with
your system of time.”
‘‘o, perhaps I cannot spare so much
time.”
“I ou surely can spare an hour and a
half. Promise me that you will. lam
urging it from a purely selfish point of
view. . I consider an intellectual woman
a choice and delightful companion, es
pecially if she possess the wisdom and
judgment that such women frequently
do. She, then, is the most able assistant
a man can secure in the journey of life.
So. rny Beatrice, who has been so care
tolly cultivated, shall not deteriorate in
my care. Now you will not object to
keeping up your course of study. Be
sides, a woman is the natural protector
of the helpless, and she needs to be wise
and thoughtful.”
“Ah' Then if you view your life com
panion with such serious eyes, and have
such solemn purposes regarding her, I’ll
read, read, read two hours, with the con
scious application of all the brain I pos
sess. Shall I commence then with the
German philosophers? How papa quotes
them. And science—dear, dear—must
I glower for two hours at a time over
Darwin and Huxley?”
I laughed at the little grimace she
made.
“I will not ask Darwin or Huxley, nor
the German philosophers. Only Muller.
You like Muller, do you not? He is the
Plato of our day—a Plato of the Chris
tian era. Broader than the old philoso
phers, he seeks to enlighten and lift the
soul to heights of which they only
dreamed. lam going to keep up with
you, Beatrice, and then we’ll never lack
for conversation.”
“Good master of mine household,” she
said, “do you know if the bolts are
drawm, so that our hearthstone may be
secure? No? Then let let us sally to
our defenses. How exciting it is to lock
up a house,” she said, as she slipped the
dead-latch. “Don’t you like it? It is
as if we were a lord and lady of the
olden time, looking out for the safety of
our castle.”
I rom shutter to shutter we proceeded,
and from door to door, Beatrice carrying
the lamp while I made all secure. Then
my lady placed a basket of apples on the
sitting-room table, and shortly after we
proceeded to our bedroom.
As I wound my watch she came to
ward me with a winning smile.
“My husband,” she said, taking my
band, “all good gifts are from our
Heavenly Father. Let us thank Him
for each other and for our home.”
And drawing me toward our bedside
she knelt, still holding my hand, looking
up toward me with her true eyes.
My blood tingled. Could I say any
thing? No; I bent my knees by her side.
She passed her arm over my shoulder,
nestled her face to mine and whispered,
with a tremulous voice, such a prayer
as a little child might breathe:
“We are together in our home,” she
said; “and I love him so very dearly.
0, Heavenly Father, bless him with all
the good things that Thou canst bestow.
Bless our home. May evil be far from
it- May all things
" ,tl ‘. U - °> Why V?
happiness we enjoy. May We \ be
Thee always with thankful heart/'” "''
She kissed me then » nr i . '
walked to the «tting.room
ngantst the manteh A so | em „
bihty seemed to fall upoo , ne 1 ,
home was indeed a holy p| M 6, with
pare soul of this woman as its A
Priest. I was the protector of thi.
household. Would evil be kept far f roni
it always? Could I, its guardian,
the place by her side, as this nu K
woman's love led her to believe ».
plicitly?
One evening, upon my return from
the office, I found Beatrice in her room
surrounded by dresses of every descrip
tion; sheeny satins laid out at full length
upon the bed; beruffled andbelaced silks,
a pale blue and a rose-colored, hung
over chairs near by, while upon my own
cosy resting place there lay a glistening
white embroidered robe, that trailed in
glittering beauty on the floor, very much
out of place, seemingly, in our every-day
existence.
“I am packing away all my finery,”
she said, greeting me with a kiss. “The
fine plumage of Miss Pryor goes into a
trunk for some years, and it may befor
ever.”
“Why, are you going to take leave of
the world?” I said, amazed.
“I am going to, so far as fine dress is
concerned,” she replied.
“And are you designing never to at
tend an evening entertainment?” I
queried.
“Do you hope I will say yes?” she
said, looking at me with a smile. “How
often are you going out, my lord?”
“Not often, I trust,” I replied.
“I have been in the gay world enough
to tire a little of it,” she said, looking up
from the satin she was folding in con
nection with Ellen, the housemaid.
“And I believe you, Philip," she con
tinued, “were always a little out of sym
pathy in pleasure-seeking,wercyounot.
“0, Beatrice, who would care to leave
a home like this for the grandest a
gayest scene the world could a
And, as you say, I have cared very 1
for social life at best.’ „
“Now look at that lace, Philip,
said, holding
work. “Aunt Ethel bong > *
Brussels, and papa sent the ra^j t
wonderfully large sum for it- }g .
will lie and grow yellow 01 a
sue paper and the white wax