Mower County transcript. [volume] (Lansing, Minn.) 1868-1915, 1874-03-12
Many arc foolish enough to think
sncl things below them, he snil, with

"NIany arc foolish enough to think
such things below them" hc snid, with
almost sigh.
81 don't" saitl she, smiling, 81
think nothing below me that helps to
make my husband happier, or to bright
en- my home"
1t was simple little saying, but
Maynard ponderel on it long. Was it
the secret of household bliss?
He looked ut her little ctu,vr Of we'll
selected books-the guitar and pile Of
music i'll the corner-the exquisite
drawings hanging on the wall, which
Milford proudly told him we're Amy's
own-the pine conc temples and moss
baskets, and little womnlAly trifes she
had amused herself with-the bits OF
embroidcry-the stand Of gcranilms
and helitrope-,cvcn the piled-up work,
basket-and thought within himself
how true woman graces AND Qlorifics
everything on which her hand may rest
Finally she came in from the Kitchen
beyond, the white apron exchanged for
a TIMER one of black silk, and sat down
by the table to work, every now and
then joining i'll the converse with q
zest that seemed the life and spirit OF
the whole. How proud MILFORD was OF
her! How he appealed to her judg'
ment on every occasion! and how fond.
~ his eyes rested on her blooming face
She wasn't doing crochet work she
wasn't emhroidering wel,-like muslin
she was just darning her husbands
stockings; and as the shining needle
cleaned III anu out among the interlac.
ing warp and wool, Maynard thought
he had never seen pretticr or more
graceful employment.
For Amy brought q spirit and soul t.,
her homely work that would have made
the coarsest fabric bright with the tint
of Persian looms.
And when ut length Maynard took
his leave, the reflection, "What hap
ply fellow MILFORD is y was accom-
panied with something very like sigh
His home was different, far.
He breakfasted alone next morning.
his wife had been out late ut Il ball ant
seldom rose before eleven o'clock. The
coffee was cold and muddy, even in thu
frosted silver urn; the toast was burn
Ell, the steak sodden and raw the tir<
smouldered away under its accumula
tions of ashes, and he read the morning
paper alone, with no bright face oppo
site to share his interest in each para
graph.
The button was off his wrist-band
but no matter, Clara must not be dis
turbed--he could just pin it over fol
the day his toes peeped out as III
changed slippers for boots-but never
mind, he would ask Clara to-nigh
where the others were. Pshaw! h,
could not tie the cravat to suit him, ant
dragged it into limp knot there wa
no little wife to stand Oh tip-toe and ar
range it, and then get kiss for he
pains!
He went silently away, with no igh
foot-step tripping after him to the door
the shadow of no sweet "good-bye
following him like guardian angel OF
his way-for Clara was a fashionable
wife.
At dinner time he came home, hal
hoping that there would be glance ant
a smile like Amy's to greet him.
home influence around his luxurious
apartments.
"Where's Clara?"
She lounged on damask sofa, the
rings flashing on her slender fingers, ant
her delicate figure arrayed in folds o.
lustro,1s silk, while the slipperel foo
to tread the roses of life.
She hardly glanced up from the move
she was reading as he entered-whl
should she? he was only her husband
He sat down and began drumming
carelessly on the table with his fingers
"Isn't dinner nearly rcaly?''
II don't know. It's the cooks
business.
But she ought to be more regular, ,
said he.
IT can't help that. I wish you
wouldn't plague me about such things.
The tone was little pcttish, as Glars
brushed away her brown curls, and re-
sumed her book, and Maynard relapsed
into silence again.
Presently another idea struck him.
"Can't you play something tonight
Clara? The piano hasn't been opened
in an age. Come sing me some of the
old ballads"
81 can't" she said listlessly; I'm
out of practice entirely. Do let mt
read"
eff you'll lay aside your book afte1
dinner, and have good old-fashioneC
evening of talk and music gossip"
Impossible! I am engaged fol-
every moment after seven--the opera
first, and then the fancy ball."
"Couldn't you let them 60 for ont
EVENING""
80, no! it would never do !"
He was silent-but there was dull
dead pain ut his heart-some void which
art could never fill.
The silent dinner was over she wen
forth in her shining robes, with pearls
in her hair, and bracelets clasping he
arms, to al evening of reckless dissipa
ton and gaiety, with smiles for tn
beau monde but none for home.
While Raymond after a long ant
gloomy reverie by his lonely fireside
took his hat and went away to the club
that brilliant place of gaiety and mirtl
through whose chandeliered portals s,
many foot has trod the broad path o
destruction Poor man he had ~
| IOnlC