The weekly north Iowa times. [volume] (McGregor, Iowa) 1857-1867, 1859-03-30
For the North Iowa Times.
SATURDAY NIGHT.
By EMMA 2. PRADT.

By EMMA =. fRADT.
Saturday night !--another week enrolled on
shs sfs 81 sGs Of heaven and
morrow dawn ushers in new born week.
Saturday eve murmurs the weary merchant
as he huriedly closes the Ledger. secures the
fro in the stove, buttons up his coat-the key
is in the door, it turns with sharp ring and he
hastens down the street. Here is his splendid
mansion he mounts the marble steps; obse-
queous servants await to usher him in j; a bright
cheerful fire is burning in the CRATE his slippers
and dressing gown are on the chair near it, and
the millionaire seats himself in his comfortable
arm chair. needing not that the chilling wind is
bowling round the cot OF the lowly, and that
little feet and hands are aching with the cold,
and perchance the mothers heart aching from
her utter inability t" procure them warmth and
food. He is thinking only of his boarded gold
and the wealth daily pouring into his Golfers
One would hardly think the stately lady
whom we have thus far failed to notice reclin-
ing on yonder divan, could he the wife Of
Ethan Allen. So cold, SO constrained their
meeting-aoife !-yes. she bears the name at
least. and the world looks or and calls it q
d lendid match. for the fortunes of both we're
brilliant. and she belle, was considered an
eligible mIanion for the rroudest and wealth
lest man in the whole of that great city. Sup.
per is brought up. she presides with grace at
the tea-table and Ethan Allen is proud If his
queerly wife, but does he not feel sometimes
that there is an empty corner in his heart, where
buried ideal lies weeping at the shrine of am
bition. The sumptous repast is finished, Mr..
Allen rings for the evening papers, Adele is
seated with the last novel and let US now
glance in another direction.
Saturday eve whispers the young clerk, as
with his weeks wages in his hand, he leaves
his employers counting room. Saturday ewes
they are the green GASES in the arid desert of
life, the heralds Of q peaceful Sabbath. He
will run up now ani pay the butchers bill,
then he will see 10 poor old Margery Graves
milk bill-for he knows she needs it--then he
win stop in the market and purchase few
delicacies for Sunday, and now he hastens to
his humble cottage. Elsie meets him at the
front door with loving kiss. divests him of his
bundles. helps him off with his over coat, and
with true wifely care hangs it up on the peg be.
hind the door, for Herbert never could remem-
Der ANYTHING. she laughingly asserts ;places his
easy chair and slippers before the fire, smooths
back the jetty locks from the broad open brow
Here comes Mile too for her share Of love-
Little Sunbeam as papa calls her. bounds into
his arms, and the little dimpled hand wanders
lovingly over papa's whiskered face and through
his hair. Mama has just announced supper
The cloth might rival the snow in ~hiteness.
the stone china glstens like porcelain, the
knives. forks and spoons were shining as mir
rors. the smoking biscuit are done to del cate
brown and light as feather. the neat roll of
butter stamped By Elsie's own white hands look.
cd - tempting. the baked apples just .beauti-
fully done" and the custard fine too. baked
purposely for Herbert, and the cheeriest smil.
ing face presiding over the repast Little
Miles plate is heaped with goodies" and her
blue eyes sparkle and fairly dance with gl+e as
she gazes first on the features Of one loved
parent and then The other. Supper over, Elsie
clears away the table, puts away the ea-,hings.
pares the potatoes for breakfast, mixes the
buckwheat cakes, grinds the coffee, sweeps the
kitchen, and then hsstens back to the coy
pleasant sitting room, undresses little fairy,
hears her say her evening prayers. "Dod bless
papa and mama, make Mile dood dirl for
Christs sake" Papa must have goodnight
kiss, and mama too. and now little Sunbeam is
cuddled do~n in bed, her little curley head
nestles lovingly on the snowy pillow to let mama
tuck her in. Elsie brings out the work basket
70 darn the Bookings lthe only unfinished work