Worcester daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1850-1888, 1862-06-20
GQOttester 4ailg Syn
A Plain VVoman,s STORY.

"i'ii gushing young voices; and the
hght drapery of the trees, and the soft, emer-
ana nue. OF the grass, suggests visions of gypsy
hats, gossamer robes, and all those things that
look so well on pretty people. And / very
early became conscious that did not belong
tothis class. An idolater of the beautiful, in
persons, deeds and things, my mirror gave me
back no suitable subject of worship; and 1
felt provoked, not because / desired great
Things for myself, in the way of admiration
and homage, but because / saw that these Of
Tended my fastidious taste, / should have had
the same feelings on desert island.
This unpleasant consciousness was particu-
larly strong upon me one bright afternoon of
the May in which completed my seventeenth
year. l was seated upon a roll of carpet in a
room where the furniture was Sat skies and
sevens," 1--WE were in the midst of house
cleaning,) and had just caught sight of my
self in the mirror placed in a ''cross light"
The warm, May sunshine streamed through
the open windows, that had just beeu secured
to dazzling brightness and outside, the ap-
pie and cherry trees were in full bloom, the
birds were chirping in their nests, and the
earth looked so young, and bright, and fair.
that felt altogether out of keeping with it.
GLOW pleasant it must be, exclaimed, ''to
be pretty Really and undeniably pretty, with
out any misgiving about it,
The only audience to this remark was cous-
in Ruth distant relative, who always made
her appearance in any family commoton, and
never lost an opportunity of setting house to
rights. Having been quietly engaged in bind
ing piece of carpet for some time past, her
thoughts probably were very different from
mine; and before making any reply, cousin
Ruth surveyed me critically from under her
spectacles, in that fattering manner which
seems to imply that the person is unexpected
ly reminded of your existence, or that he or
she considers you slightly demented. When
she spoke she said just what might have been
expected of her.
Everybody can't be pretty" said cousin
Ruth; 81 never was"
| sat and studied cousin Ruth, and wonder
ed if should ever look like her. Fifty years,
to be sure, is considerably past the prime of a
woman's life; but at twenty she could not have
been very different. l have seen ffty-year-
old faces on which the impress of mind and
heart had made light, like the glow of an
autumn sunset, that could not be quenched
but in cousin Ruth the lamp had never been
lighted. She was well-meaning and of aver
age intellect and intelligence; but that was all.
My face, in outward form and feature, was
beyond my powers; but could not mould it
SO that it would be different from cousin
Ruth's at fifty?
''People who are not pretty marry just as
well, resumed my companion; ''for beauties
are generally great flirts, and take up with
crooked stick at last"
My ears tingled Indignantly, for l had been
perfectly innocent of any thought of this ma
ture; but l was obliged to listen to two or
three instances of girls who were not pretty,
and indeed had nothing in particular about
them, and yet they had ''done so well for
themselves"
'The more l listened to Ruth's conversa-
ton, the more l resolved that l would have
something in particular about me; and l de-
termined to set about it without delay Left
alone in the May twilight, pondered how l
could light my lamp and keep it trimmed and
burning.
Five or six years always bring changes
if not visible, outward ones, yet changes that
are steadily at work, like miners, under the
ground; and, from what | saw and heard, |
had reason to suppose that the change in me
was for the better. l had not changed into
beauty; but l had several acquaintance who
were worse off, in that respect, than myself
and had received two offers, one of whom
was too old, the other too young, and neither
of whom l would have married upon any
terms.
l had been spending the morning with Car
RE Evelyn, almost the only intimate friend
that had, for l never was given to wholesale
school girl friendships Carrie was faaCee
of two weeks standing, and had been very
much amused all the morning; for, although
half head the tallest, had been called
''child" at least half dozen times, and re-
ceived several pieces of advice from a girl
who had often chung to me at night with ter
md xub ha1 fnlf hot
quite right and proper for her to love Mr..
Lillian until l had approved of him. She was
very sweet, engaging little thing, though,
and did not wonder at all that he should love
her but | exercised over her a sort of pro-
tecting fondness that made me rather Jealous
of any new influence.
ooh, Ellenl" exclaimed my companion,
suddenly, q would not be Nellied by any one,
for thought that Ellen suited me better
show much more you might make of your
hair" and she gave hopeless sort of sigh.
"Why," replied L, rather stubbornly, sit
answers all the purposes for which hair was
intended, does it not? l believe that it covers
my head-that is all l expect Of it."
"Covers your head 7 " replied Carrie, con-
temptuously. "Why, child, you talk like a
goose OR a swami
The next moment my hair was floating
around my shoulders; and, while was deep
in a volume of Faust" l caught, occasional
ly, remark from Carrie something like ''gold
in the sunshine and brown in the shade" But
when she had finished her labors, and they
lasted some time, l looked at myself in the
glass, and took the whole structure to pieces
A PlnpeTat'ice did not suit me; and when
the thick, understanding knot once more
rested on my neck, Carrie rather ruefully re-
marked that she was not at all sure | did not
look classical" As l was quate sure. I gave
the subject no further attention
81 have just thought Of something, Ellen. /"
said my friend, after a pause, THAT | hone
will turn out properly. l want you to marry
Herman Forsyth-he is so rich, and queer,
and knows so much. He will be here at the
party, and l shall see that you are intro
duced."
was in all the majestic dignity of five feet
three.
''My dear little girl" said l, loftily, ''this
kind of thing must cease. Mr.. Forsyth is, l
have no doubt, a very good sort OF person
but neither he, nor any other man shall have
an opportunity Of saying that my friends tired
to make match between us. l do not like
parties, as you know, Carrie; l feel out OF
my element, and would always prefer sitting
in the dress-room with book; therefore, II
/ come, you must promise to let me do as l
please. And now tell me who is to be here y
"Wby Robert, Of course" replied Carrie,
dimpling into smile again, "and-"
Nobody but Robertf" / inquired after a
reasonable pause
watched the pretty blush on Carries
check as painter watches the sunset.
''Of course there will be somebody else,
said the young faacee, with laugh; "but
shall not tell Won until won come And now