The Tipton advertiser. [volume] (Tipton, Cedar Co., Iowa) 1856-1962, 1859-02-12

Then you don't belong 70 the rose
leaf sort of ladies, who think il horrible
to touch their white fingers to a cooking
utensif :" ...-
mo, indeed r. she said, opening her
blue eyes in astonishment. at keeps
me healthy and happy; and aa Charles
has to work in the store all day, it is osly
fair tha, l should do my part. u
Many are foolish enough to think
such things below them" he said, with
almost sigh. ~. 81
Il don't" she said, smiling. 81
think nothing below me that helps, to
make my husband happier, or to brighten
my home" "
J. 1t was simple little saying, bat May
nard pendcred oa it long. Was il the
secret of household bliss i! .,- ....5 ..-f
lie looked at her little eiugere Of well
selected books-the guitar and pile Of
music in the corner---the exquisite dSsw.
ings hanging on the wall, which Wilford
proudly told him they we're Amy's own
the pine-cone temples and moss.bas-:
kets, and little womanly trifes she had
amused herself with-the bits M I'm.
broidcry--the stand of geraniums and
hcliotrope-even the piled-up work bas-
ket--and thought within himself how .
true woman graces and glori6es every
thing on which her hand may rest,
Finally, she came in from the bright
kitchen beyond, the white apron exchan-
ged for timer one of black silk, and
sat down by the table to work, every now
and then joining in the converse with
zcst and spirit that seemed the life of the
whole. How proud Wilford was of her !.
How he appealed to her judgment on
every occasion and how fondly his eyes
rested on her blooming face She was mt
doing crotchet- work; she wasn't embroi-
dering veb-like muslin; she was just
darniDg her husbands stockings; aud ss
the shining needle cleaned in aud out
among the interlacing warp and wool
Maynard thousht he had never seer
a prettier or more graceful employ
ment
For Amy brought spirit and sosI -
her homely work that would have made
the coarsest fabric bright with the tints
of Persian looms
And when at length Maynard tsok his
leave, the reflection, "what happy fel-
low Wilford is was accompanied with
something very like sigh. His home
was different, far
He breakfasted alone the next morn.
ing--his wife had been out late at bah
and seldom rose before eleven. The cof-
fee was cold and muddy, even in the
frosted silver urn; the toast was burned,
and the stake soddep and raw; the fire
smoldercd away under its accumuiations.
of ashes, and he read the morning aper
alone with no bright face opposite to
share his interest in each paragraph.
The button was off his wrisiband, but
no matter Clara must not be disturbed
he could just pin it over for to- day
his toes peepcd through his stockings, AS
he changed slippers tss boots. but never
mind, he would ask Clara to- might where
the others were Pshaw. he could not
tie the crsvat to suit him, and dragged
it into limp knot--there uAs NO little
wife to stand on tiptoe and arange it, aud
then get kiss for her pains
He went silently away, with no light
footsteps tripping after him to the door;
the shadow Of no sweet "good- bye"
following him like guardian angel on
his way--for Clara was a fashionable
wife! . .s"~
At dinner tiaue he came home, halt
hoping that there would be glance and
smile like Amy's to greet him--a houo
influence around his luxurious apart
ments.
Where's Clara - F...
She lcangcd on damask sofa, ths
rings flashing on her slender fingers, and
her delicate figure arrayed in folds OF
lustrcus silk, while the slippercd foo,
peeping from beneath seemed fit only ,o
tread the roses of life. She hardly CLAN,
ced up from the novel she was reading,
as he entered-rhy should she he was
only her husband.
He sat down, and began drummins =
carelessly on the table with his fingers
Isn't dinner nearly ready
81 don't know It's cooks business. -
But she ought to be more regular,
said he.
a can't help that. / wish you
wouldn't plague me about such things"
The tone was little pettish, as Clara
baushcd away her brown curls, and re.
sumed her book, and Maynard rclapsed
into silence again.
Presently another idea struck him.
Cant you play something tonight
Clara? The piano has not been opened
in an age. Come, sing me some of the
old ballads"
al can't" said she listlessly, "Fm ou,
of practice entirely DO let me read
/ "if you'll lay aside your book af,el
dinner and have a good old fashione,
! evening of talk and music and gossip.
| Impossible. | am engaged for ever,
moment after seyen--the cIera first, an,
/ then the fancy ball 3"
"Couldn't you let them 20 for on
evening"
90 no. it would never do -
He was silent--but there was dull
dead pain at his heart-some void whicI
art could never fill.
The silent dinner over, she went fort,
in her shining robes, with pearls in he
hair and bracelets clasping her arms, t
an evening of reckless dissipation MI
sayety, with smiles for the bcon mond'
but not one for home
While Maynard, after long, gloom
revery by his lonely fresidc, took his ha
and went away to the Club, that briliau
place of gayety and mirth, through who's
chandeliered portals so many a feot ha
trod the broad nath of destruction