Iowa voter. [volume] (Knoxville, Iowa) 1867-1874, 1870-12-29
~
PariOrs.

ANY lady who wishes lace curtains be-
fore her parlor windows has my hearty
leave to have them provided she does not
insist upon my following her example. l
was once bitten by the same mania. l
| recollect the temptation came in the shape
of an exquisite fern leaf pattern. SO l
bought them and hung them up, and every
| body said, "What a pretty idea" But
every time went near the window they
| were dragging across my hair or nose, and,
worse still, interfering with my idolized
plants. So l was not sorry when, upon
having them done up" to find they were
done for, and had come to pieces. Since
then my Kies, and geraniums, and roses
have had all the light and sunshine they
wanted, and weave prettier curtains for
me than any ambitious upholsterer could
do.
DIRTY plants!' / think l hear some
housekeeper exclaim-" dirty plants spoil
ing the carpet, and always making litter
with dead leaves, and necessitating the
great blazing sun to stare unwinkingly in,
whether one is looking becomingly or not"
As to the latter, cheerfulness, and bright
ness seem to me the most potent cosmetics,
and gracious welcome of more impor-
lance than the latest style of skirt, or hair,
or trimming
Sometimes l have gone into such hearse-
like parlors that my very blood chilled at
their uninviting, upholstery stiffness.
had as lief sit down in furniture shop,
and great deal rather, because that has
its own honest designation. A "parlor "
to me, should speak of individuality. BE.
cause Mrs. Jones fancies great crockery
vases as big as one of her children, must
buy pair? Because she likes artificial
roses on her mantel, may not have in
stead, sweet tuberose stalk, with bit of
! heliotrepe and mignonnette in my little
vasep
Because her children may never enter
| the stiff, sacred parlor, with its stereotyped
chairs and lounges, repeated in every
house in the block, may not my pets enc
eyed doll lie on the sofa in mine, if she
chooses to "put it to sleep there and so
make me glad that there's little child in
| my house who is not banished to the
| nursery because my parlor is too fine? Be
cause Mrs. Jones keeps her rooms so dark
that you enter them with dread of a
| broken ankle from some fatal misstep, may
/ not rejoice in the faded reses in the car
pet under my feet, where there are no such
pitfalls for my guests.
confess to liking honey parlor-one
that looks as if it were used with work
basket here, and a book with folder be-
tween the leaves there, and shawl that
somebody had on but a minute ago, lying
, in coy corner of the sofa. like chairs
expressive Of individuality, shaped to the
backs of their users from the good man of
| the house down to the little fairy's which
! is sure to get wicked little twist in its
| legs. Pictures, of course and an open fire
! too, if it be winter And, oh, may the
gods grant pure ventilation Oh, what a
dead, used-up air sends you staggering
back at some parlor thresholds. And how
| blissfully unconscious are its occupants
acty their cheeks are so flushed and their
eyes so heavy, How you long to say "For
Heavens sake, good friends, open crack
at the top Of your Windows" And how,
you don't, but sit there till you look as
| stupefed as themselves, and make your
call as short as possible that you may es-
! cape to the out door air.
Statues are not to be despised in a par
| lor; but the hard working mechanic has
| as beautiful statue as all your money
could buy, when his little curly headed
child climbs up in the chair, at the win
dow, ito watch for papa" l like to see
this bit of poetry woven into his hard life
when, with box of tools in his hand, he
passes the rich man going to a luxurious
| home. 1t is one of the poems | am fondesi
of reading, as | stroll along at the days
close. FANNY FERN.