Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1871-10-14
THE TEA PARTY.
TFrom AppIeton's Journal. 1

tus
grassy bank beneath them was newly mown,
and spotted with the petals of the snowbell-
bushes, growing beside the high granite steps.
The hrs On the lawn were Hurried with the
breeze, and Claras pansies and tulips trembled
In the flowing airs. Hens clucked in the garden,
and scrambled after q man who was turning up
the clods. The necessary cat, instigated by the
song OF q robin, scampered up and down the
palfngs, watched by q big dog, who lay on the
terrace, his paws crossed in lazy content. Or
der prevailed inside also; every room was a
miracle Of neatness. Some of them were furn-
ished In the fashion of Mrs. Gray's early DAYS.
and the remainder modernized by Clara's taste
She was fond Of flowers; her windows were full
Of pots, and nower-stands were everywhere; she
bought books also, poems, novels, and novels
and poems Chintz was a weakness with her
and comfortable cushions prevailed, and COW
cred furniture; In short, the whole house had an
individual atmosphere pleasing TO all.
Mrs. Gray married a sailor, her townsman-
for Thornbury was a seaport. On his first voy-
age a. captain, while Clara was a baby, he was
lost-that is, the ship in which he sailed was
never heard from Months, years passed away
before Mrs. Gray gave up all hope of her hus-
bands return from that deep which means in
30 many voices 10 despairing, hoping, waiting
hearts She dreamed at night that she saw the
ship sailing into the harbor; she dreamed by
day that she heard his footstep outside her door;
sometimes she fancied that she saw the intelli-
gence OF his return in the faces of those who APP
preached her; but he never came. He left
little property, which she saved for Clara, and
spending nothing upon herself, taught little
a-b-c-schOOl-a-b-c'so often blurred by her tears
instead Of her scholars, and dimmed by the
image of a stately young man rising before her,
and looking into her longing eyes amid the hum
ming voices Of little children. Clara grew up
carefully-nurtured girl; all that her mothers
straitened means allowed was given her. In
her turn, she married sailor also. He, too,
made his last voyage when Clara had been mar
ned six years, and he had been absent two; It'd
tngs reached her, from the far Pacific that
Captain GOreham's ship had fOundered at sea
small part or the crew, escaping by means of
the boats, was picked up by passing vessel and
this was all. Thornbury was stirred by the ca
lamity, for Captain GOreham was popular man.
belonging to a good family; but the universal
comment was, that Clara would weather the
disaster" better than her mother did. So it APP
peared- The period Of mourning over, Cara
threw of her black, and opened her house to
cheerful company and cheerful WAYS. On this
pleasant June morning, in one of her chambers,
sat Catherine Sinclair, a visitor from a distant
part Of the country, and related to the Gore
hams. She was busy trimming light evening"
dress, and singing, in a sweet voice, the old
song
"a place in thy memory, dearest.n
Clara was rummaging an adjoining closet
where the household linen was kept. In a
muffed voice, As if Obscuredwith sheets or nap
klns. she called presently:
Why do you insist on place in his memory
Claim"
"Hush, i am only warbling to be in readiness
for our company tomorrow. 1 mean to be kill
ing in my last appearance in ThOrnbury, you
know"
"By no means; YOU win he caught vet, and
md something more than the sound of his
name Mr.. ChandOs, if am not mistaken, will
have voice about this last appearance"
90 oh, what sly, deceitful hypOcrite you are.
Clarai You had better stay in the closet Saw
is there any skeleton up there?"
Clara did not answer. She thought, with
chill, about the contents of n trunk near her,
band What a dream her married life suddenly
seemed to her! An impulse TO test her feelings
led her to turn the key and open the trunk.
Catherine struck up her song again, glad that
dos Clara turned over the articles, which had
not seen the light for many day. TO the restOra-
ton OF " A place in thy memory, dearest"
Nothing beyond the chill moved her at the sight
Of the familiar wardrobe. Am heartless. y
she thought, "that these things find me so cold?
What am made of, that cannot shed a single
tear? i am not like my mother, who whimpers
now, when fathers name is mentioned" She
shut the trunk, and went downstairs dissatisfied
with her past, and doubtful OF herself every
way.
Mrs. Gray was in the kitchen. stoning mighty
mass Of raisins. The outer door was open; a
shadow fell on the floor, and, looking up, She
perceived neighbor, Mrs. Rankin, who ex-
claimed:
al saw your back-door open, and could not
80 by without giving you the time of day. How
tea-parties, is she?"
eyes, Clara has a recipe for tea-parties. 1
suppose she gets them up as well as any thing
can be got up in Thornbury. You know, we are
not able to boast Of much"
Z" She IS ingenious at most anything, Mrs.
Gray. How she used to cut and cOntrive when
she was young creetur, and how well she APP
peared among the best, in the DAYS gone BY,
when neither you nor me had much 20 brag on,
so far a. this worlds goods gO!"
90 i wonder il we are the happier?, replied
Mrs Gray, lifting her spectacles, and pausing
over her work. al certainly do not value now
what used TO value-plum-cake, for instance,
fyklH ins al Of Nrash FHaa
parties now lack the relish of the old-fashiOned
green-tea drinkings at such houses as the Mayos
the Barrons, and the breeders, where we knew
each others domestic habits perfectly the econO-
mics We practised from choice or necessity and
the various shifts which poor, or proud, or pc
culiar people resort TO. Yet, when we met in
eompany-dress the key was turned on any Of
fensive Individuality, and We kept up appear
anees thoroughly; no exposure and dressing of
our chronic ulcers We deceived each other in
good faith, for the sake of repose and our self
love; and, ignorant as we might have been, our
manners were 50 good, that we parted with
grateful remembrance and went home revived
by harmless illusions. We don't act so any
N, ore; Clara often SAYS there is a good deal OF
buu,a1 nature stalking abroad, and that parties
give il a. opportunity for an exhibition. /
think human n.ture had better be left at home
sometimes
Well, !" Mrs. Rankin answered, with an or
aeular air, green tea or black, none of us would
go back and travel our road over. Speaks well
for life, don't IL? Dread OF the past Is equal TO
dread OF the future! Beautiful world TO live in
like crossing brook on stepping-stones, with
our skirts tucked up, eying the water behind US
and before Us, and never knowing how we are
to get over. Ny old man grumbles about things
being 80 different from what they were in his
day. The water-courses are drying up; he rides
over bridges that do not span thread Of mois-
ture; the woods are almost cut of; once the cir
cult everywhere Was q belt Of trees, now il is
bare ground and the sky. The pulpit Amt
what Il was; creeturs are fed ittsrent and moth
ing Is as good: And 30 e goes on smoking his
pipe, ana suskr1 like burr 20 the chimney
oiner-H~e burr to a carpet-rag. That
or1pss TO my mind-hare YOU any pieces 20 spare
Re for my carpet? There's old times for you
q braided rag-carpet"
Before Mrs.. Gray could reply to this request,
Clara opened the door.
Mother" she called, but stopped on obsery-
ing that some person was with her.
here's Mrs Rankin, Clara" said Mrs. Gray,
"ssking for caTpetrags-"
Like fash, Clara thought OF the trunk up
stairs, containing 30 much broadcloth, and the
absurdity Of the thought made her angry and
change, and fastened TO say:
"Dear me, am in no hurry; did not come
begging on purpose; just put my head In for q
minute; me and your mother fell TO talking
about old times, when she and were cronies,
and have hindered her, i expect. So you are
going 70 have one OF your nice parties? heard
Mr.. Chandos speaking to Mr.. Edwards down to
the store"
II you will call again, Mrs. Rankin, I will
have some pieces ready for you. We are busy
now, and have no help-could not find a wo-
man n Thornbury to come mp here for days
work"