Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1845-06-06
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From the Columbian Magazine.
ENNUI AND IT'S ANTID0TE.
BY MRS. ANNA CORA MowATT.
CHAPTER !.


stretched himself, yawning, upon luxurious
setee in the ladies parlor at the Astor, where he
lay some time gazing YEARLY at the furniture
wondering why people took the trouble to make
il. The ladies were busy in their own apart
ments, and the male oilers were busy in the rea-
ding and smoking rooms.
'Haloa, Fred are you asleep? exclaimed
Frank Gaylord light-hearted, light-pursed in
offensive, companionable fellow
i wish was-but sleep is too great luxury
for one tired of himself and all the world
'But what has tumbled you into the slough OIL
despond, FredP
Never had misfortune in my life
What ais you, then? You are not dyspcp-
tic-have no scolding wife-report says you are
worth ten thousand year
And ten thousand blue devils to heighten its
enjoyment I'm dying of a stupor, occaSioned
by the absence of sensations
why do You not trave?'
I've travelled the world overt did no good.
Men, women, mountains, rivers, trees-nll the
same
Try one thing more-get married
TO mercenary woman, who for ten thous-
and year will permit me to encircle her finger
with ring, and hang chain on my own incli-
nationsP
Il beg pardon my dear Fred, but why do you
not employ yourself in some way?
Ive tried it. Tried to drink-gave me the
headache tried to smoke-made me qualmish );
tried to gamble-no fun in losing. Tried eve
rything, and it's no CO. Don't know what to do
with myself; tiresome world
Gaylord turned away, for he found the yawns
contagious. As he was leaving the room, he
said, by the way Fred they say you have law
suit pending; why not busy yourself in looking
up that Who's likely to winl
Don't know or care If old Scrapeall gets it
sha'nt be worth dollar Can't help it; don't
believe he will don't care if he does
Plenty Of anxious mammas and manageable
daughters will care resumed Gaylord; so a.
dieu I wish you a happy deliverance from
your ceruean enemies
Faulkner lay awhile longer, and as he Ian
guidly arose and discovered his figure i'll the mir
ror, he drawled out, wish wasn't such good
looking fellow; wish I'd been squint-eyed or
lame or hunch-backed; then I'd have had some
thing to think about, I'll take a walk he sud-
denly exclaimed, with an energy resembling the
Pickering of candle before it expires in the
socket, Soon prepared, he descended into the
street, spreading his umbrella as he uttered his
favorite ejaculation of 'Tiresome world----very.'
1t was cold, wet day in March. Faulkner
sanntered down Broadway, because his face hap
pened to be turned that way. The friends he
met were hurrying for shelter, while his slow
pace showed his object to be relief from ennui.
please give US penny, please was the first
sound at one of the crossings, and two little hands
were thrust under his umbrella. He looked and
saw couple of little ragged children each with
aswet broom in one hand, and the other extend
ed for charity With an Indifferent air, he drew
out two shilling piece. Just as he placed it in
the hand of the elder petitioner, his eye fell up
on third little girl near the others. She was
busily sweeping the crossing, and though she did
not stretch forth her hand, she looked up in his
face with half timid, half implorng look, and
then piled her broom. Divide it amongst YOU
give that little girl some, he exclaimed, and pass
ed on. He soon looked back to the little sweeps.
about the aims The third little girl stood lean
ing on her broom, anxously regarding them, but
did not interfere Faulkner had an eye for the
beautiful, however disguised, and he remarked
the grace of the young girl. Her form too, was
remarkably slender; and mean as was her gar
ment, there was taste in its arrangement The
folded red shawl crossed over her expanding bo-
II nd o1,od AL;
roundness of her waist; the striped skirt, cut so
short as to escape the mud, exposed pair of
small and well turned ankles the shoes--but
those were large and badly shaped, doing no
credit to the maker The little blue hood, tied
so closely over the pale face
Faulkner walked slowly on, bordering upon
the miseres of street sweepers, when, after one
or two of his habitual yawns, he exclaimed tire.
some world, and turned to retrace his steps with
the intention perhaps of again lounging at the
Astor. Once more he passed the sweepers. Two
Of them were starting after fat, good natured
looking man, who seemed half disposed to grant
their prayers. The third, the interesting one
was still sweeping away the mud, although hei
ungloved and purpled hands seemed too cold tc
grasp the broom. AT the sound of steps she
raised her head, apparently recognized Faux
ner, for the paeness Of her cheek gave way to 4
slight flush, as she resumed her work.
Here, little girl, take this said he, placing ii
her halffrozen hand gold piece worth two dol
lars and half
The child, for she was scarcely more, gave ;
bewildered look, convulsvely closed her fingers
upon it, and with wild cry of JOY, dared dowr
the nearest street. Her broom traied after her
and her bonnet fell to the ground, but she die
not stop to recover it. Faulkner gazed at tn,
corner around which she vanished, until the gaz
ofpassers by awoke him to his situation, wheI
he quickened his pace and soon reached the As
tor. The elasticity Of his step, and the idea Q
having relieved suffering innocence, caused hin