The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1873-12-25
A LITTLE CLUB AFFAIR."

hotel was nearly silent. Up and down,
with supple, leonine motion peculiar
to her, and football of velvet, turning
her black eyes restlessly, and whirling
about if the air stirred in the passage;
thus she had moved for hours.
Was she heroine in distress? Was
she a woman of gifts, evolving some
creation from her sleepless brain2 L
am sorry to bring her down to earth
she was fit subject for romance. But
il must be confessed Isabel was only
waiting for her husband, who was out
late. Had she been sensible, practi-
cal woman, she had wrapped the drape-
ry for her couch round her and laid
down to sweet dreams long ago. But
she has only been wife a year. Her
husband was her single tie; she lived
her life in him.
Isabel was beautiful. Her flesh was
like marble lighted by fire; her hands,
her eyes, her lips, the poise OF her
head, her undulating motion, had an
elegance of their own. But when God
lent her the gift OF loveliness, He ad-
ded thereto the gift of representative
ness, through which so many are graded
to melancholy and madness. She had
been the ward of bachelor uncle, who
felt he did his whole duty if he visited
her twice a year at her convent, and an
swered her sorrowful black eyes with
mods and winks of approval. When she
was ready to enter the world, the charge
of young lady niece so taxed his free
dom, and, by consequence, his spirits
that he laid him down and died. He
hadn't meddled in matrimony. Why
should his autumnal youth be spoiled
by foster daughter? The problem
shovelled him into the grave.
Then Burnham appeared to Isabel
His family and hers had been on friend
lv terms whole generations. He had
lust returned from long tour, and had
the air of other continents around him,
which fascinated her senses. After
wards his best grew upon her; his gen
erous nature, his pure intention, his
mellow thought, the whole fine struc'
ture of his manhood. She knew little
of the world; she made him hel
standard. So that when Burnham came
wooing and made her sure that oil his
happiness was in her, she staked her
self, and was blessed in proportion to
her intense sensibility.
When Isabel became wife, she did
not degrade her hero. Her very esti-
mate kept him up to her. Proud and
tender of her, he walked to rectitude,
and softly, before her, many moons and
never meant to deviate.
But
(The chapter recording Solomon's fall
begins with b'tt.)
But Burnham was society man; he
had such jovial friends, who formed
such a iovial and select club. The
"Pickwick Club" run over with money
and leisure and graceful gayety. To be
"Pickwickian," was to be recognized
as tip.top globule of the city cream
Youngsters of family looked forward tt
rising into this club much as the young
Roman anticipated the toga of man
hood. 1t welded an absurdly strong
influence. The "Pickwickians" met il
elegant apartments, drank imported
wine, attended by perfect and silen
service, and rallied at the hard worked
sad-visaged world. Young husbands
we're considered great conquests among
them, and they importuned Burnhan
so much to join them that he good
naturedly took to "running in" From
taking a friendly cigar and glass, ht
went on to extending his stays till the
fascination of the club ran through hi
veins.
Isabel knew nothing of clubs. She
supposed they might be assemblages o.
gentlemen with something of literary
character, such as Addison pictures
She saw in her minds eye sober citizens
grouped about tables, reading, perhaps
smoking, and discussing wisdom. She
waited for her husband because she wa'
restless when he was away, not because
she had any righteous tongue in pickle
for him.
Feet shuflled in the hall. She ben
her neck her whole body crouched tc
listen. They drew nearer, zig-zagging
they paused at her door; and the being
outside, evidently an animal without
hands, began to rub and tumble and
growl for entranc'.
Isabel threw the door open, when {
person in very bad hat, with his whole
apparel somewhat on one side, fell al
her feet. It was a stage scene, but
terribly real with one actor. IsabeI
started back, raising and wringing hel
hands, and staring al her husband like
maniac. Mr.. BurnEam gathered him
self up and took observations. Some
drunken men are abusive others maud
lin others jolly. But Burnham was
pompous. He found sofa, and mount