Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1871-11-17

ago in ashes, the whole world of her
yearnings long buried, leaving only the
duty of living and the hope of heaven.
Asshe sat down, took up her spectacles
and knitting and closed the Bible, she
began pleasantly to talk to us of the
warm, bright autumn nights, of Smiths
work, and then of my own profession,
and of her niece, Sarah Jane. Her
genuinely sweet spirit and natively
gentle manner were very beautiful, and
far overbalanced all traces Ct rustic
birth and mountain life. f#
0 that unquenchable Christian fire,
how pure the gold of its result! 1t
needs no practiced elegance, no social
greatness, for its success only the warm
human heart, and out of it shall come
q sacred calm and gentleness, such as
no power, no wealth, no culture may
ever hope to win No words of mine
would outline the beauty of that plain,
weary old woman, the sad, sweet pa
tience of those gray eyes, nor the spirit
of over1owing goodness which cheered
and enlivened the half hour we spent
there.
FL. G. might perhaps be pardoned for
showing an alacrity when the door
again opened and Sarah Jane rolled, !
might almost say trundled in, and was
introduced to me. Sarah Jane was an
essentially California product, as much
so as one of those vast potatoes or mas
sive pears she had suggestion of
State fair in the filllness of her ply
sique, yet withal was pretty and mod
est. If l could have rid myself of
fear that her buttons might sooner or
later burst off and go singing by my
ear, think might have felt as Fl. G.
did, that she was "a magnificent fe-
male," with her smooth, brilliant skin
and ropes of soft, brown hair.
FL. G., in presence of the ladies, lost
something of his original flavor and rose
into studied elegance, greatly to the
comfort of Sarah, whose glow of pride
as his tale ran on came without show of
restraint. 4!
The supper was delicious.
But Sarah was quiet, quiet to FL. G.
and to me, until after tea, when the old
lady said: You young folks will Lave
to excuse me this evening"" and with
drew to her chamber. rstH.
More logs were then piled on the sit
ting-room hearth, and we three gather
ed in semi-circle. Presently III. G. took
the poker and twisted it about among
Goals and ashes, prying up the oak
sticks, as he announced in measured,
studied way {" An artists wife, that is."
he explained, can academician's wife,
orter, well, she'd orter sabe the beauti-
full and take her regular aesthetics; and
then again" he continued in explana-
tory tone, "she'd orter know how to
keep a hotel, derned if she hadn't, for
it's rough like furt off, fore feller gets
his name up. But then when he does,
though, she's got a salubrous old time
of it. It's touch little bell " he press
ed the andiron top to show us how the
thing was done) "and Brooks, the NOR
ming paperP Open your regular Herald:
&c ART NOTES. - Another of III. g. |
Smiths tender works, entitled "Off the
Grade" so full of out-ofdoors and sub
tie feeling of nature, is now on exhibi- |
ton at Goupils'
"Look down little further:
"' ITALIAN OPERA.-Between the acts |
all eyes turned to the dstinguee Mrs. H. |
G. Smith, who looked then turning |
to me, and waving his hand at Sarah |
Jane, =" leave it to you if she don't"
Sarah Jane assumed the pleasing color
of the sugar-beet without seeming in |
wardly unhappy.
"It's only question of time with
H. G," continued my friend. cart is
long, you know, derned long, and it |
may be year before paint my great |
picture, but after that Smith works in
lead harness."
He used the poker freely, and more
and more his flow of hopes turned
sha 'e of sentiment to Sarah Jane, who
smiled broader and broader, showing
teeth of healthy whiteness.
At last l withdrew and sought my
room, which was II. CPS also, and his
studio. / had gone with candle
around the walls, whereon were tackled
studies and sketches, finding here and
there bit of real merit among the pro-
fusion of trash, when the door burst |
open and my friend entered, kicked off
his boots and trousers, and walked up
and down at sort of quadrille step,
singing:
Yes, it's the cottage of me love;
You bet, it's the cottage of me love;
and what's more, II. G. has just had his
genteel goodnight kiss, and when and
where is the good old bar-keep ?"
Slowly from this atmosphere of art |
passed away into the tranquil land of
dreams. Monthly.