The democrat. [volume] (Weston, W. Va.) 1868-1874, 1872-04-29
HOW VISITED NEW YORK.

HOW VISITED NEW YORK.
where and how shall begin III Unlike
Canning's knife-grinder, | hare a story to
tell; hut to live thing and to relate It are
SO different.
wonder II tho humble moth, safely
sheltered beneath the protecting greenery
of some household cabbage, ever feels a
thrill ofenvy when the gorgeous butterfly,
with wings all ablaze with yelvety maroon
aud gold, alights close to him1 IfsO the
moth must feel Just as | felt when CorneliH
Bylexter sat in our poor little parlOr that
November day, with her chains and rings,
aud loOped.up draperies OF cashmere, and
primrose.colored kid gloves buttoned with
links Of gold.
1t was rather hard; for could remem-
Der the old days when Cornelia and ]
went to school together, and | wrote her
compositions for hOr, and looked ont hard
words In the French dictionary. There is
no republic like a school. and Cornelia
was thankful to DO allowed to sit next to
me then; and now she actually presumed
to patronlzo me; no, not exactly that,
either; for COrnela Bydexter, notwith.
standing her lack Of brains, was an honest,
warm hearted sort Of girl but the poor
are sensitive; and although was pleased
to sec my old schoUl-inate, tho pleasure
was not unmixcd with bitterness.
Yes, we ir.rs poor; aud the fact stared
Inc in the face whenever | ventured to
look. That we had been rich was no
matter of consolation. The room was
filled with ill.assOrtel relies Of furniture
that had once been splendid in rosewood
shine and CLEANS Of satin and brocatelle.
The carpets. now worn tllrealbare, were
OF royal velvet and Administer, and the
whole apartment bore vestiges Of that
shabby gentility, that poor preten'e OF
newness and freshness. which Is more
pathetic by far than the undisguised front
Of poverty. was tired Of arranging the
curtains SO that the darned spots should
fall in the inner folds, ! was weary Of
putting glued chairs in the least. used cor
ners, and setting mended china vases in
SIe shatlowy hooks of mantel and table.
Where was tho usei Did not every body
see through. our miserable devicesl We
were poverty.stricken, and there was an
end Of 1t.
And yet poor papa sat there in that
forlorn, second-rate little room like Wis.
count In his reception chamber. Dear
papal ever since the paralytic stroke he
had seemed to believe In himself To a.
degree could not possibly attain to, and
to imagine that the world also put faith
in him Nor would We have had 1t other
wise. And dear mamma, who could not
lUOk aught else than a lady in spite Of
inended laces and oft.turned silks, never
told him Of the daily contests with unpaid
butcher, dissatisfied baker, and clalnor.
ously insolent candlestick maker And
Jeanette and |, just at the age when life
ought according to all we had read and
lleard-to wear Its sunniest aspect grew
up in the shadow, crying softly to our.
selves when 1t was bitterest to endure in
silence-ior 1t was part Of our domestic
creed to keep all tile disagreeablGs from
poor papa.
"fes,r said papa, nodling his head as
le sat. In gorgeous Turkish dressing
gown by the window, lis sllppered feet
on an embroidered ottoman, and Que
white slender finger inserted between tho
pages Of the book he had been reading all
ihe morning-"yes you are quite right,
Miss Bydexter; octavia is growing very
pretty.p
And could feel myself blushing scar.
let, between my delight at receiving a
compliment from papa and my embar-
rassinent at feeling all tile family eyes :
Miss BydeIter's included-turned upon
me.
ats shame size should be shut up
herei" said Miss Bydexter. in her son
soprano voice, "wlen all the world Is
getting ready to enjoy Itself. Come, oc-
tavia, what do you say to going with me
to New York this winter z"
"Wife," said papa, loitily-somehow
the manner was Just as natural to him a;
the air lie breatlied-" why don't wesend
our little girl to New York; Miss By
dexter's kind offer ought not to be slight
ed, and II really would be great advan'
tcge. socially speaking, to tile child"
Visions Gf Broadway seen through the
sunshine of a December day, OF the Finl
Avenue and Central Park, Stewards and
Delinonioo's. Of brass bands and lighted
ball.rooms. shot dLzily across my brain
for the instant, as a hungry man dreams
ofunlinitetl food. ! felt tile burn Of the
kindling lights in my eyes as looked
from napa to mamma. And then com.
mon sense, for a moment frightened of
her throne, came back tn me. and knew
low impraeticable. not to say impossible,
he plAn was. But Jeanette uttered a
little rapturous cry :,
hoh, oc.Avia, wouldn't u DO nice II
We only had tho money"
So Iku .,...N,s q az UAPad With that