Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1872-09-06
Miscellany.
THE STORY SHE TOLD ME.
BY NJ. A. DENIsON.

''YoU'RE looking at that pretty thing,
see," said the girlish creature, as She
came toward me with beautiful baby in
her arms.
had been attracted by the charming
appearance of the little cottage. at the
door of which I asked for some water.
Being hidden to enter, | sat now at the
tasteful, tiny baywindow, covered with
Towering vines, and drank my glass of
cool, sweet milk.
This hOme-interiOr was picture in it.
self. The furniture, though made by
Skillful fingers, had felt no touch of
the fashionable upholsterer. The homely
walls were decorated with simple pic
lures, dried grasses and ferns. The floor
was painted and vanished, and made
beautiful with pretty rugs and mats. Not
the least attractive of its ornaments was
that little mother, mere girl yet, it
seemed, with her wonderful wealth of
golden hair coiled round a perfectly
formed head, her soft eyes and gentle,
womanly ways. The baby ON her knee
was a study; no boarded wealth of art in
classic marble could surpass the beauty
of this lowly-born child.
We were friends from the first, this lit
tie girl-woman and l. Some way she
seemed willing to pour into my elderly
ear little condolences that might have
justified n maturer friendship. So, as |
moved about the dear little nest, and hap
pened to spy choice piece of workman
ship, She said:
you're looking at that pretty thing"
eyes," SAID I, ''it is even more than
pretty, it is exquisite"
So it is, and everything that's Ben's
taste is justly So" she replied, with
glow of pride. "Ben went to the fair; |
couldn't go WELL for baby was ailing, but
that was no reason he should stay at
home | couldn't be as unreasonable as
some women. | didn't expect he'd bring
me more than cushion for pins, or some
neat little fancy-but no, he must buy
that or nothing. I'm sure it's only lady
should have such things, not a poor mill
hands wife; but you see Ben thinks diff
ferently"
How it was this dear little woman came
to tell me her story, l won't repeat, only
give it to you in her own direct, pretty,
artless fashion. So no more of me. This
was the way she began it:
"You're looking at me, I see, and say
ing TO yourself, which is true, there's
nothing at all taking about this plain lit
tie woman. Ben says there is ; he laughs
L
self, fOolishly but bless your heart, can't
/ see My eyes, you take notice, are
light and gray, sometimes quite colorless,
and as / look at them when comb my
hair, [ think to myself that Britson, our
tOrtOise-shell cat, has a deal more beauti-
ful ones, but there again Ben declares
that my eyes are my greatest beauty
and-oh dear, how can the man talk so
"My forehead is low, and in summer
the freckles will come, though now, deep
in September, of course it is white
enough; and my hair would be that hor-
rid color, red, only sometimes there's a
tinge of brown In it that is rather pretty,
III allow. Still, altogether, nobody would
think of calling me handsome, even
though Ben does say hly profile is quite
perfect.
eff you care to hear it, have fretted
badly, ever since was child, because
people called me plain. Why l should
have minded, | hardly know myself; there
were but few of the elements of beauty in
the home -surl oundings where l grew up
out of childhood mean aesthetic
beauty as Ben calls it.
"My mother was poor, my father al
ways weakly from hurt he got when
quite young; my brothers and sisters were
more numerous than thought they need
ed to be.
Zone of the little ones, her name was
NIatty-the dearest little human blossom
that ever made the world brighter and
sweeter-this boy favors her-had glori-
Gus eyes: Everybody who saw her, turn
ed to look again to see her eyes, they
said, in which one could look down into
her soul, and read it like an open book
Dear little angel That made me take
more notice when people called me
plain little thing. I do believe | wor-
shipped beauty for beauty's sake. It
never entered into my little heather head
to trace Gods hand in it, or love Him for
it. We learned little of Him through hu-
man means, on that wild sea-shore where
the waves sometimes crept quite close up
to the clumsy hut we called home:
CHOW you see how really plain am,
and what 1 truly think of myself-home-
ly, short, ungraceful {; and yet Ben, the
foolish fellow, stands to it | am hand
some.
"Ben, the great, glorious, noble fellow.
hope you'll pardon me, madam, he's my
husband, but l can't help praising him:
He has made me all / am for good.
wish you could see him you wsuld smile
at the contrast between us, for Ben is as
handsome as I am homely. / don't care
where he goes, Ben would be noticed,