The south-western. [volume] (Shreveport, La.) 1852-1870, 1859-04-20
The Man of the world.
'Egad," said Mr. Merlbone to himself,
1hink LII rnnrr1r Hunr;..ttn

he saw the reflection of handsome man of
fVe-and thirty, with black hair black eyes, and
an extraordinary pair Of black English whisk
ers-said man being attired in an elegant suit
of black, with black studs and sleeve buttons
and black enameled diamond ring upon his
little finger.
Seeing all this, and knowing it to be tole
rably faithful reflection of himself. he thought
that, although he might possibly do better than
marry Henrietta, Henrietta could not possibly
do better than marry him.
! Henrietta. quite unconscious of MFR. Merl-
bones very faltering decision, sat at the piano,
singing some old ballad. with her head thrown
back, so that her long ringlets (of that rare.
! but beautiful, pale gold--almost straw color
tintl fell away down over her shoulders; while
her eyes-Iarge lustrous and azure-were fixed
upon that somewhat uninteresting field for con
| temp ptation-the ceiling.
! She looked very pretty singing, in this pic
turesque attitude; and it was that which assisted
| Meribone to make his decision. He was a con-
noisseur in female beauty, as well as in wines,
pictures, and horses.
Htnriettas siser-the sad eyed and quiet
little Leonore-sat on a sofa, at the other end
of the room, reading, in one of those singular
and not too graceful positions which (young)
ladies will sometimes get into, in spite Of their
natural dignity of carriage, and all the teach
4 lngs OF mammas and aunts.
Mr.. Merlbone glanced from Henrietta to
Leonore. and from Leonore TO Henrietta and
then back again into the mirror, at himself.
'Leonore is very pretty" he almost sighed,
land has the sweetest expression OF face magi-
nable. In fact, her eyes and mouth are quite
the thing; but then, Henrietta is a blonde, and,
demme, these blondes are ilresislibe!'
Whereupon, he tapped his white front teeth
with the long, pointed nail OF his iitEe finger
the one on which he wore the dlamond-and
repeated his assertion:
"Egad, | think LII marry Henrietta!'
Perhaps, il Leonore had not been-pardon
me, young lady reader, but you know AL girls
do--if Leonore had not been sitting on her foot,
she might have become Mrs. Meribone!
hardly think it, however. Mr.. Merbone
was man of the world; and although believe
that he secretly cherished tender regard for
Leonore, he thought that Henrietta was the
favorite with old Mrs Elwell, the aunt of the
TWO sisters.
And old Mrs Elwell was worth one hundred
thousand dollars!
Poor old lady! she was very ILL., The doc
tors said that she couldn't live month; and
/ MerIbone knew that he must marry one OF the
girls before the old lady died, or wait year
During the year, forty other men might come
along and some one among them bear off the
! plize.
J Mrs. Elwel knew little something OF life
5 and no adventures could come near her neices
no hawk enter her dove cote-while she lived
Therefore, Mr. Mcrlborne was, for the time,
not an adventurer.
He raised a thousand dollars, by some dodge
; best known 10 himself, and after procuring {
genteel, not to say elegant, widower's oufi
his wife had died of grief and i-usage, twelve
years before, he bade farewell to the city, anC
his old loue friends, and gent down to Daisy
vile. to renew his acquaintance with Mrs. FL
well and her charming nieces.
Your true men Of the world never forget
any body, nor their circumstances.
Il was not difficult to gain entrance TO tht
doye-cote, in the character of a wealthy widow
er, looking for country seat and somebod.
to ornament it.
: Henrietta was very dashing girl, and tn
$ especial pride of her aunt. She had beauty
= refinement, and various other qualifications
! but she was ambitious. She wanted 4 husband
not that it is an unusual ambtloR, but sh'
! wanted husband who should be rich hand
some and accomplished. Little sad eyed Leonor
was too lazy to want anything. suppose sht
3 had vague hope of getting married, sometime
or another-she was Il human-but 1t was 10,
much trouble to hunt for a husband AS hel
dashing sister did. All she cared for was t.
lie in "a grass hammock swung between two
; apple trees, in TIE garden, with pile OF nov
els, and her guitar within reach. IN winter
when the garden was rather an unnvIlns
7 loaling place, she liked to wheel sefa before
= the CRATE, and lie there with her novel Iron
morning till night.
As she was seventeen years old, and vel
grown, she might have accompanied her siste
Henrietta on the riding parties. yatching excur
sons. and picncs. which DaisyvIlle is celebra
ted for, and might perhaps had three offers II
4 one season as Henrietta had; but she was ia
too indocnt, and, between you and me, IN
i glad of i'll rather like these lazy 9srls.
we'll, when Mr. Merbone exhibited thu
: dark splondor'' Of his mourning suit and blacl
: wbiskers at the dove-cote, Henrietta made ;
dead set at him. She played and sang t(
him. rode with him. made eyes at him. dressed
4; for him; and, had he been young man, o
: human, or anything else but a man Of tn'
p world, - he would have been head over heel
i in love with her before a month. Asst was. he
busted himself in the exact amount Of Mrs. FL
wells fortune, which niece she liked best, AM
J., other little business matters These settled ht
made love little to both the girls, and finding
,l,,.t H.4nriett~ u'illie5 to do all the ennrt
ing. while Leonore would require great dea
of courting, he arrived at the conclusion whicl
heads this story
"Egad. think I'll marry Henrietta!"
Accordingly, he placed an elegant black
E rimmed eye-glass astride his nose, and went tt
turn over the leaves for his future wife
Sing that little song you sang for me yes
, terdav." says he Il feel sad'
) (which one?" asks Henrietta, with a fasci
mating side glance, and shake of thepale goIt
ringlets.
Something about the bowl, says Merlbont
"for which you composed the air.
ooh, says the young lady, 4 know wha
you mean, and she searches up list of manu-
, script music, and clears her throat
Now, my dear reader. I'm going TO apollo
! gise to you. l know that it is very slow kinC
Of thing to put songs into stories, but this hap
pens to be one of my own writing. and am 81