Nashville union and American. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1868-1875, 1873-04-01
PARAGRAPHICAL.

Such weather as we are now experience
ing, makes a man feel like a butterfly,
which goeth about from flower to flower,
busy all the livelong day, in collecting
honey to store away for use during the
long, dismal, winter days, when the cold
blasts of the aurora borealis sweep over
the land (Our musical critic has Just looked
over the foregoing paragraph, and he says
that it's somewhat faulty in construction.
He considers the sentiment one of the
most beautiful that ever fell under his OBJ
servation, but claims that butterflies don't
store away honey aud as for "the cold
blasts of the aurora boreals," he says
that's all 'sbosh." Our musical critic is
a remarkably candid young MANI,
The babies-bless 'em-were out in force
yesterday, and during the afternoon, Church
street presented a lively appearance, as
scores Of little ones, decked out in all that
finery so dear to mothers heart, passed
by in their dainty carriages. For hand
some ladies, and equally handsome babies,
Nashville stands without rival.
Sunday morning Nashville youth stood,
at a somewhat late hour, on the steps Of the
fashionable boarding house where he takes
his food. He had enveloped his graceful
person in the best harness his wardrobe
boosted, and be fattered himself he pre-
scented what is known as ga killing appear
ance." He had just partsken Of generous
breakfast, and he felt at peace with
all the world. On the other side Of The
street party of young ladies were passing,
and our nice young man thought to deepen
the impression he was satisfied his appear
ance was making upon them, by drawing
forth his perfumed handkerchief, spreading
its snowy folds to the fresh morning air, and
then applying it to his aristocratic lose.
ThrustiDg his hand into his pocket, he
drew forth the article, gave it a vigorous
shake, and then discovered that he had
made mistake in the pocket, and instead
Of producing mis- handkerchief, he had
drawn forth and grandly flourished dirty
towel, which he had purposed leaving with
his washerwoman as he went to breakfast.
1t is one of the unexplained mysteries of
life, why ladies, infpassing over a street.
crossing step SO lightly, and gingerly as
though they were walking on eggs. Every
observing person has noticed this fact, but
no one offers an explanation. There is no
possible danger of breaking the stones form
ing the crossing, even if the entire weight of
two ladies were brought down on one of
these stones at once.
The lIndying love of mothers heart is
finely illustrated in the following para
graph, clipped from the Detroit Free Press:
"There are several RESIDENTS of Detroit
whose friends took passage ON the missing
City of Boston, which went down to her
ocean grave in such q mysterious manner
that her fate has never been ascertained.
Although so long time has elapsed since
the steamer was given up, there are those
here who have the strongest faith that at
least some of the passengers were cast away
on some shore or island, and will some day
make their escape 10 tellbhe sad story. One
of these is a woman Of sixty, whose manly
and promising son was one of the passen-
gers. She has subscribed for Boston paper
for no other reason than that she thinks
the press of that city will be the first to re-
ceive news of the ship. As regularly as the
paper is received she opens it in the hope
that her sons fate may be explained, and
disappointment only engenders new hope.
His plate is kept at the table, and to almost
every friend that calls the mother says: 90
have not heard from William yet, but hope
to this week" The neighbors feel that the
hope is the only sunlight of her life, and
encourage her in it. No one but mother
could hope thus against all the rest Of the
world, and none but mothers heart would
continue so faithful through all the long
months since the missing steamer, so heavily
freighted with human souls, plunged down
to her deep sea grave or was beaten to
pieces on the rocks of some forbidding
shore.