Connecticut western news., 1872-05-03
HOW VISITED NEW YORK.

Where and how shall begin it? Unlike Canning's knife-grinder, I hope story to tell; but to live a thing and to relate it are so different.
 I wonder if the humble moth, safely sheltered beneath the protecting greenery of some household cabbage, ever feels a thrill of envy when the gorgeous butterfly, with wings all ablaze with velvety maroon and gold, alights close to him2 If so the moth must feel just as felt when Oornela Bydexter sat in our poor little parlor that November day, with her chains and rings, and looped-up draperies of cashmere, and primrose-colored kid gloves buttoned with links of gold.
 It was rather hard; for I could remem- Der the old days when Cornelia and went to school together, and wrote her compositions for her, and looked out hard words in the French dictionary. There is no republic like 8 school, and Oornelia was thankful to be allowed to sit next to me then; and now she actually presumed to patronlze me; no, not exactly that, either; for Cornelia Bydexter, notwith- standing her lack of brains, was an honest, warm hearted sort of girl. But the poor are sensitive; and although was pleased 
 was not unmixed with bitterness.
 Yes, we aoere poor; and the fact stared me in the face whenever I ventured to look. That we had been rich was no matter of consolation. The room was filled with ill-assorted relics of furniture that had once been splendid in rosewood shine and gleams of satin and brocatelle. The carpets, now worn threadbare, were rT, Al whole apartment bore vestiges of that shabby gentility, that poor pretense oi newness and freshness. which is more pathetic by far than the undisguised front of poverty. I was tired of arranging the curtains so that the darned spots should fall in the inner folds, I was weary ot putting glued chairs in the least-used COT. ners, and setting mended china vases sir the shadowy hooks of mantel and table Where was the use2 Did not every body see through our miserable devices? We were poverty stricken, and there was ar end of it.
 And yet poor papa sat there in that forlorn, second-rate little room like wis count in his reception chamber. Deal papal ever since the paralytic stroke he had seemed to believe in himself to { degree I could not possibly attain to, anG to imagine that the world also put faitt in him. Nor would we have had it other wise. And dear mamma, who could no look aught else than lady in spite O mended laces and oft-turned silks, never told him of the daily contests with unpail butcher, dissatisfied baker, and clamor ously insolent candlestick makerl Ant Jeanette and I, just at the age when lift ought according to all we had read an( heard-to wear its sunniest aspect, grew up in the shadow, crying softly to our selves when it was bitterest to endure il silence-for it was part of our domesti creed to keep all the disagreeables iron poor papa.
 "Yes," said papa, holding his head a he sat in a gorgeous Turkish dressing gown by the window, his slippered fee on an embroidered ottoman, and on. white slender finger inserted between tn, pages of the book he had been reading al the morning" you are quite right Miss Bydexter; Octavia is growing yer, pretty"
 And could feel myself blushing scar let, between my delight at receiving compliment from papa and my embar rassment at feeling all the family eyes Miss Bydexter's included-turned upol me.
 It's a shame she should be shut u here p said Miss Bydexter, in her sof soprano voice, "when all the world i getting ready to enjoy itself. Come, Oc tavia, what do you say to going with m to New York this winter p
 "Wife," said papa, loftily-somehoy the manner was just as natural to him a the air he breathed-" why don't we sen our little girl to New York? Miss By dexter's kind offer ought not to be slight ed, and it really would be great advan tage, socially speaking, to the child"
 Visions Of Broadway seen through tn sunshine of December day, ot the Eft Avenue and Central Park, Stewards an Delmonico's, of brass bands and lighte ball-reoms, shot dizzily across my brai for the instant, as a hungry man dream of unlimited food felt the burn of tn kindling lights in my eyes as l locke from papa to mamma. And then con mon sense, for moment frightened O her throne, came back to me, and knev how impracticable, not to say impossible the plan was. But Jeannette uttered little rapturous cry
 "Oh, Octavia, wouldn't it be nice we only had the moneyl"
 "Yes-F,'! mamma answered, with ths soft, moonlight sort of smile she has times. But you know, mysdear-''
 But papa would not allow her to finis the sentence. A deep, mahogany -coldre flush mounted to his forehead, and I sa7 his brows meet darkly.
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