The Milan exchange. (Milan, Gibson County, Tenn.) 1874-1978, 1874-10-29

/ IL. he young man nelu III up W view
moment, and then deposited it solemnly in
/ his vest pocket.
| find the girl who lost it-that's my
wife"
The Young men laughed.
"May be she's black,n said one. "May
be she's married already" said another.
+" May be she won't have you," suggested
third.
"You1l see, replied st. George.
At x they left the train and walked
through the street. A large, pretentious
looking dwelling attracted their attention.
st. George had occasion to remember it
well years after that 1t was a most re-
markable looking mansion, particularly in
the laying on of colors. 1t was painted a
vivid yellow, to begin. The cornice was
a most brilliant red, the windOw-shutters
were bright grass green, the ceiling of the
veranda about the house was sky-blue. and
all the columns were glaring white.
John st. George stood stock still at the
sight of it, and laughed immOderately, as
ill-bred young men will do in a strange
town. 4
- think that fellow had better haul the
rainbow down and tack it up on his house
at once" said he.
Eugene ArnOt poked him in the ribs.
Hold your tongue, man. His Honor the
Mayors residence"
st. George laughed again. "His Honor
has an eye" he said. st
But the time came when John st.
George thought that raisbOw-cOlOred res
idence the most charming mansion in the
world.
Some OF the serenading party had the
honor to be friends in the family of his
Honor the Mayor. They called to pay
their respects to his Honor's family, and
took John st. George with them. His
HOnor's carriage stood at the door as they
came up. and a most beautiful young
lady was Just stepping gracefully out of
il. Eugene Arnot nudged st. Georges el-
bow.
His HOnOr's daughter" he whispered.
His HOnor's daughter returned the salu-
tation of the little party like queen, and
bowed to st. George, sweet, stately and
lady-like. She was pleased and flattered
to meet the handsome young composer.
st. George, with his artist eye and intu-
itions, thought he had never seen so beau
tiful a woman, whose manner at the same
time was so perfect, She turned to lead
the way gracefully into the house. st.
George followed her with his admiring
eye. Eugene Arnot gave little start, and
nudged st. George again.
"Look at the feather in her hat" he
whispered.
She turned her graceful neck at that mo-
ment so that the rich, waving plume of her
dainty hat came full into view. 1t was
black plume, family shot through with
cleaning orange, and little of the tip of
il was gone. st. George blushed scarlet,
and hung his head like a sheepish school
boy.
His Honor's daughter was beauty of
the magnificent sort, like Queen ZenObia
or some of those old ones. She was a pale
brunette, with beautiful hand, a large,
gorgeous creature, with great, slow, brown,
liquid eyes, like oX-eyed Juno. Her name
was Margaret. and she had sense enough
to write it so. She wouldn't babyiZe her
self to the extent of making an ie out of
herself.
She charmed the artistic intuitiOns of the
soul of John st. George. But the father
and mother of this gorgeous, queenly wO-
man made singular impression upon
him, he remembered, afterward. His
Honor, the Mayor, was puffy parvenu,
one of the "new rich," as the French say.
You might have known that from the
trees around his great, rainbow-colored
house. They were the merest saplingS,
no thicker than your thumb, some of
them. That is how it is always. Your
"new rich.' no matter how rich he is,
never has a comfortable. cosy old house,
with beautiful, great old trees, with heir
looms of the human race for centuries.
Not hel Your " new rich'' selects bare,
bald spot, and presently builds himself a
costly, bald-headed house, without a tree
or vine around it. Then he sods the
ugly, yellow dirt over the top, and brings
wagon-loads of little slim saplings and tries
to coax them to grow and adOrn the bare
spot and the splendid bald-headed house,
and not an angel from heaven could him
der the place from having an air of raw
ness and newness, and prOclaiming from
the housetops that it is the abode ofa new
rich. What makes the new rich always
build his home in that manner? | don't
know.
But that was what his Honor the Mayor
did. and that was what his Honor the
Mayor was. Her Honor the MayOress
was something different. She was the
living incarnation of Yankee ''drivc."
There are people whose whole physiOgO-
my reminds you invariably of some inan-
innate object Her Honor the MayOrcSs
was like pair of tailor's big shears, hard,
ugly and sharp. And for her everyday
dress she usually wore a black gown with
white polka dots in il, like so many awful
white eyes, everlastingly staring you out
of cOuntenance. But the beautiful daugh-
ter was wholly charming to John St.
George, and she seemed fully as much
pleased with him.
Was it a match? Was it love at first
sight? Did the course of true love run
smooth? Softly, softly, and one at a time.
To tell the truth, John St. George had
never loved any woman half as much
as he loved the ideal of his wonder
ful unwritten song. | think he had
dreams so much about that that he had
never given much thought to young la
dies. His eye was charmed with the sight
OF Margaret, asit would have been with 4
pale, gorgeous lily, but am sure no sweet
dream of her ever nestled in his heart.
The sweet dream of his unwritten song
nestled there. A spell was over him,
though. To tell the truth, equally on the
other side. fair Margaret had made up her
mind to make a conquest of John St.
George, and TO marry him. Women will
do the like. In fact, I've known it happen
myself So a spell, which he could not
break. was thrown over John st. George.
At last Eugene ArnOt said:
You're in love with his Honor's
daughter"
mo. no." he replied; "Tm only in
love with dream-the dream of my un-
written song. I'm goingto Italy, Eugene,
to study"
"Then think I'd start Tomorrow if
were you,' answered Eugene, drily.-.
When he came TO think itOver, he him
self concluded Eugene's advice was good.
Hemade his preparations and bade adieu TO
his friends. He put off saying farewell to
Margaret till the last. Just before he was
ready TO sail he visited his HonOr's daugh-
ter. and told her he was going away to
Italy to study in the native land of the old
masters. Then presently he stood, hat in
hand, making his adieuX.
ii thank you for all the pleasure your
friendship has been TO me, and, when /
am over the sea -
She turned her head away quickly
/ Was it sob which shook the stately
throat? He laid down his hat and took
the beautiful hand in his own. A tear fell
on the hand which he extended. Marga-
ret was crying. A look of intense pain
and trouble fitted across his face.
IF have caused you a moments grief