The anti-monopolist. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1874-1878, 1874-10-15

spose. | wish her we'll, and you too,
and I'll teach her how to make butter
and take care Of calves and cabbages."
Mark smiled to himself as he turned
away, and thought how his brilliant
wife would stare at the thought of
touching her dainty hand to churn.
But the smile was more than half a
sigh. Mark worked in the bayfield,.
He had always been an industrious lad,
but never steady. Some days he would
work like steam-ox, crowding into one
day as much as slow man would do
in three days, then maybe he wouldn't
lift his hand for week. He was just
so in everything. All his life went by
jerks. He wanted something to hold
him steady, Dame Hascall said. He
seemed to have found it with his new
wife at first. He worked valiantly on
the farm. and came home at night tired.
hungry, and with soiled clothes; not
at all the trim gallant who had won
the love Of dainty Bell Goswall. 1t
wasn't always agreeable to Mrs. Bell to
put up her refined lips to be kissed by
a man who had dirty hands and dust in
his moustache. By and by she left off
coming to meet him when he came from
| work, and remained in the vine-covered
porch reading Margaret Fuller. In
consequence, Mark wasn't always as
sweet.tempered as Bell thought him be-
fore they were married. Bell never
| learned to ''raise brindie calf by
hand.'' She declared 81 e could not en-.
dure the thought of
SUCH COARSE THINGS.
sMother is going to take a summer
boarder, Bell said Mark, one day.
.''He's portrait painter, believe, or
some fellow like that. He's coming out
here TO fish, and study ideal heads he S
got in his own head
"What's he like? asked Bell.
ooh! useless fellow, wasting idle
days, guess. lie reads poetry, and is
Of the literary sort
"Good J" said the beautiful wife.
s'Then at last shall meet somebody in
this forlorn corner who cares for some
thing that do. l shall be SO glad"
Mark sighed again, but this time
there was not the ghost Of smile
along with the sigh. They were drift
ing apart, and yet he and his beautiful
city wife had not been married six
months.
The "summer boarder" came, lazy,
good looking artist. exceedingly intelli.
gent, and extremely polished in his
manners. He and Bell became good
friends. They took pleasant walks to.
gether while Dame Hascall was churn.
ing, and Mark was working in the field
They read poetry and philosophy to-
gether, till Bell began to be bright and
animated again.
Its quite like cid times she said
to Mark. '.Now I've found somebody
at last who is like my own set, the
friends l used to know before I came to
this dull old place.
Mark frowned. SIT seems to me,
Mrs. Hascall, that you would like to
forget entirely that you've got hus-
band he said, drily.
"Oh. dear, no! But you are no COM
pany to me now any more, you know
This time Mark didn't sigh. He
frowned darkly, and muttered some
thing Bell couldn't hear, though it
sounded savage.
Summer heightened into autumn, but
the boarder still fingered. and one day
neighbor remarked to Dame Hascall
that her daughter-in-law and her
| hOarder seemed very much
PLEASED WITH EACH OTHERS COMPANY.
So they were. One morning they sat
on halt-shaded bank, reading. Bell
was radiant in her gray autumn dress
and shawl. The artist looked at her
with unmistakable admiration. as he
laid down the book and said:
Mrs. Hascall-there fl beg your
pardon, but how did you ever happen
to marry yonr husband and settle down
in this desolate spot9 Believe me, you
did yourself a gricvous wrong when you
buried yourself alive here"
sometimes begin to think l made
mistake" answered Mrs. Hascall
gloomily.
Mistake !" echoed the artist. ''Yor
have thrown wour life away. l wish
Mrs. Hascall, must paint you before
go. I have been looking for a face
which would be my ideal of Tennyson'
Maud for months. The moment I saw
your face, l said to myself, Here is my
Maud"
He picked up the book again. 'Thi
is how | should paint you, Lady Maud
Listen"
s'Cold and clear-cut face, why come YOU s.
cruelty meek
Breaking q slumber in which ell spleenfu
folly was drowned,
Pale with the golden beam OF an eyelasf
dead on the cheek,
Passionless, pale, cold face, star-sweet on
gloom profound"
A strong, sudden hand parted SOM
bushes near them, a tanned, wrathfu
face, with white teeth cleaning through
the sun-burnt beard, glowered at them
and q wrathful voice exclaimed:
"P'raps you'd like to paint her hus
band, too, wouldn't you ! Dinsmore. i
you want to know why she married me
and threw her life away, I d recommend
you to ask me. By the Lord Harry
madam, I should think you d be asham