Bristol news. [volume] (Bristol, Va. & Tenn.) 1867-189?, 1871-09-08
TFrom Woods Household Magazine. ]
THE POOR LITTLE WOMAN.
BY NJ. HARTwELL.

BY NJ. HARTWELL.
Evelyn and Jean were both writing.
Evelyn at her table, flew over page af-
ter page, compressed her lips, laughed,
glowed in a white heat of inspiration.
She was a metallic woman, a woman
whose appearance builds you up. She
could reflect all the shine in the world
she could be rained Oh by all the rain
in the world, remaining inside her ar
NOR unmOved by either. / never see
such an one, without crying: Thanks!
you can't be easily hurt. Sorrow and
reverses drown you not. Love will
not Kill you. You are self sufficient.
a blessed wOmann'
Evelyn was a successful writer. Her
articles ratified delightfully."- on the age.
Her aim was as sure as David's. I'd
itors sung her praises with tabrct and
dance. She studied the art of letters
with her whole fine reflective SOUL
Composition was her highest function.
When Evelyn was born, she took all
that was best aud spiritually man-like
out of her lather's nature, and left
poor Jean to CLEAN what she could. So
Jean was formed in the feminine
not writing this article to eXtol her
class, nor even 10 excuse sentimental
womanhood. But | am writing to beg
your mercy OH it-ye big men and wo-
men. Men are said To love this type
most. Which is true--if the type be eX-
pressed in beauty. If ii be not eX-
pressed in beauty, your clinging wo-
man may tWine round tree, or mean
der over the fence like pumpkin
vine without waking any solicitude in
the mas, uline BOSOM And she is al
ways bullied 10y her sister. The Lord
help the weak woman. If she is by
you, oh, bc tender to her, Tor it hurts
her to live.
Around these too, spread a cool, sha-
ded study-room. They were orphans
in their homestead; not rich enough
to he heiresses, nor poor enough to he
working for that abominable living"
which becomes the intellectual death
of so many. Over their few acres the
tender summer afternoon quivered; so
clear was the air that Jean could not
help leaning half an hour on her fists
to watch how vivid light, hunted
startling shade round the apple trees.
Jean was not handsome. Surely she
had rich, short curls. making brown
shadow OF her head. and "A small, sweet
mouth. But there was nothing aggres-
sively beautiful about her. She did
noa bring out your surprise; she Lard
IL made an impression on you. She
was the hollow left in the family rock
after Evelyn's pasitive and self-assert-
ing shape had come out.
jeans literary efforts were dear, lit
tie poems which some editors praised
as having much heart and nature in
them. But she was never likely to
pass under a shower-bath of public fa-
vor. She did not work as Evelyn did,
but faithful to the doctriue of inspira-
ton, she would no; touch a pen unless
the muse first touched her sensibility.
A bug, forest of twinkling grass, the
meaning of a birds song, the glance
of a sorrow ui eye, were subjects for
Jean.
She fell into day dreams, which, ev-
erybody knows, waste fiber. And
Jean was full of ludicrous, but real
pity for every hurt thing. While Eve
lyn careered like Tam O'Shanter on
her s1orting pen, Jean looked up and
saw the spread out anatomy of fly
Just above the door-hinge. Oh, that
poor fiy! She saw the whole small
tragedy with her minds eye. He had
just stepped into that retired spot
treacherous as the sunken road at Wa
terloo-to set his swallow-Uail wings
right, whet the dust off his heels, rs
she had often seen flies do, and brush
his hair with his fore feet, that he
might worthily approach some fair
bugzer who had made several thousand
OIL his many-sided eye
when the crash came on him; life and
light and the world slid away from
him, he was for one intense moment
alone, buried in woe, and then t0ds
not!
According TO jeans lament over The
fly, her own fate came upon her; L
will try 10 take up her obituary as hu-
namely as she took his.
For TO such women love is life or
death. Jean had fancies about the un-
know she thought she must one day
strike an atmosphere all warmth and
hahn. liz was down stairs, waiting TO
act on her figurative lnngs at that mo-
ment.
Jemima, their hOuse-keeper, came
pounding up the stairs, her sleeves
rolled high, -four on her apron. VeNa-
non on her furrowed brow, and a card
and notes of introduction in her hand:
There's a man in the parlor," said
this uncultured usher. "he sent up
these here things. The cusiard,s a
runnin' all over the oven, SO told hln
to help himself while l hurried up
here"
"What, to custard?'' asked jean
twipkling lazily. while Evelyn slowly
drew the rains of Pegasus. :.
"No. TO the hat-rack and chairs,
snapped Jemima, Il can't do no TWEEN
/ ty things to once"
"lYake. Evelyn" cried Jean, there
is a gentleman down stairs. ana Je,
NINA has told him TO make free WIN
our supper and furniture.
Evelyn took the letters; Jean reao
| the card.