The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1871-06-02
ANNETTE L0RN.


Gil in Thirty-fourth street look out in
the rear diagonally across the Seventh
avenue, and ! have only to settle my
self in my armchair by the window of
my study, and contemplate at my ease
peculiar phase of character and mode
of life; for tenement houes of the bet
ter class stretch along Seventh avenue
10 Thirty-ffty street, through whose
open windows | can glance and see the
inner life of the occupants.
One day, several months ago. when |
first commenced my studies of social
life in Seventh avenue, | noticed one
window in particular, where, on pro
iecting ledge, scarlet geraniums and
pink-and-whitc roses doomed, and
where rude boxes were covered with
running flowers and trailing moss until
they looked like pyramids of freshness
and greenery. | was often attracted to
this window. and noticed that the cur
tains were scrupulously clean, and the
bit of bed which showed from the win
dow had pillows of snowy white.
Now and then, pretty brunette APP
peared at the window. sometimes look
ing bright and radiant. and anon with a
shade of deep sadness on the piquant
face, with its full, red lips and nee re-
tr0,LSSe.
One day, too, | heard a clear young
voice, as it foated on the still evening
air. singing an old French chanson. NV
thoughts flew back instantly to the
French pension, where | was once one
of those prisoners politely known as
parlor. boarders, and where one of the
governesses used to sing the same air.
She had learned it in her own sunny
Provence. in the days when Rene, her
dark-eyed lover had given her the
string of beads, "of pure gold, made
moiselle," to hang on the shrine of her
patron, Saint Agnes. Vain proptia-
ton Rene died in the Paris barri-
cades, in the fatal days of the coup detat,
and the loved one was a little wizened
old maid, with one green spot in her
heart-his memory, kept fresh and
watered by her tears.
had seen her sit in the still twilight.
with the tears rolling down her cheeks,
singing the song which brought back
her youth and love again. 1t had
affected me much, and now | heard the
pretty brunette singing it at the win.
dow. while the young voice trilled and
thrilled like birds. 1t did not sound
sadly when she sang it. 1t seemed as if
the voice of hope breathed through the
fresh, red lips. Ere the song died away
1t was taken up, and deep, manly bass
added itself to the air.
There was no great cultivation in
either. bat both the voices possessed the
charm Of youth and freshness. could
not see the man, but ! concluded on a
venture that he was the lover of the
pretty brunette. | got up vague in.
terest in her, and it is so seldom that
am interested in anything between
heaven and earth, that it is quite a boon
to me.
| don't see how a woman can exist
without women friendships; but, be-
You'd few "called and chosen" | dom
take violently to my own sex. When
do take a fancy Of this sort, however,
have it lawful bad
The little brunette interested me.
and, as long as she did so, what matters
it whether she were patrician or pie
bian, princess or pariah | can't i'm.
agine any situation in life where it
could possibly pay to be bored, and these
high people do occasionally bore one
fearfully.
| wondered what made the face in
the window, so bright naturally, wear
sometimes such a shade of sadness. and
| wished | could watt some charm
through the air to drive that shade
away.
OF what avail are clairvovance. and
magnetism, and spiritualism, if they
cannot give us power to lift the shadows
from one human heart?
one day. through my little blue vel
vet opera.glass. ! saw the girl busily en-
gagged over q table with some white
fabric, and, looking still closer, found
she was huting.
How fortunate! she flutes and want
some futine done.
That afternoon, when | went out to
get paper Of pins, or TO buy new
neck ribbon, or some other of the glo
rious ends and aims with which we
women employ our minds, while our
brothers. with no more intellect than
ourselves. are making and losing mil.
lions and deciding the fate of nations
when ! went out on one of these ire
mendous errands, | stepped round to
the Seventh avenue, and passing by the
array parti-colored garments, breeches,
coats, hats, petticoats, dandling in wild
confusion before the everlasting old
clothes-shop, | went to the side-door
and asked n clean, sharp-faced woman
who was hopping up the staircase, who
" did fluting" in the house.
The lands sake. how should | know?
! am here only few days, and am clear
tuckered out Already, trying to keep
the stars clean after a passed. of dirty
Jews and Irish"
without pausing TO ask her how she
lett her folks" in New England, where
she evidently drew her natal breath. |
ran up to the third floor, and on door.
IN the narrow, half;lighted passage. !
saw the sign:
ANNETTE LORN,
Seamstress and Fine Laundress.