Buchanan County bulletin. [volume] (Independence, Iowa) 1869-1891, 1875-02-12
WING OLD.

\ ltN ana country were ailkc baking
and boiling beneath the direct rays
Of 4 blazing sun But in the small
cottage Of the Iiazledeans, on the
Hudson, all was coolness, greenery
and shade. Vases Of flowers stood
in the oLcn windows, blossoming
vines wrcathcd over the verandas,
and the interior, with its moss-color-
ed carpets, its white curtains, and the
LIGHT chairs and sofas of bamboo and
cane, was a sight most refreshing TO
eyes that had been wcaried all day
long with the dust Of travel or the
binding glare of city blocks and
streets.
At her dressing table, III front
upper room, sat Lizzie lIazledean,
the mistress of the pretty cottage,
and wife ofthc "rising young lawyer
of Spruce street.
"Young lawyer he was called by
his friends Of the same age, and by
the newspaper reporters who had oc-
ca:iou to speak Of him. Net he WAS
two and forty years of age, and suci
cess had but just begun to grow ac-
quaintod with his name.
And Lizzic-bri@ht, gipSyish, dark
eyed Lizzie-Nho had been a beauty
and a belle in her young days.-alas.
she began to own to herself, Qong
after other women had said it Of her,
mind you,) that she WAS growing old.
The young days were left behind for
ever, and Lizzie, though she still kept
her bright checks, and sparkling eyes,
and agile step, Lizzie was forty years
Of age on dis very day when we first
behold her.
She shut her glass, halfhiding her
face behind her clasped hands. She
bad no longer Il desire to look into
tllat too faithful mirror. Only this
very afternoon it had revealed a most
unwelcome truth to her. There, on
each side of her rounded temples, she
! had discovered Il narrow path OF
white among the jetty tresses OF
which she had so long been proud.
\ gray here and there had not mat
tered heretofore. She had pulled
them out, halt-scriously, half-!augl-
ingiy, whenever she had happened to
see them But now, not ''tcn," but a
hundrcd-nay, a thousand seemed to
have 'comc to their funeral" In a
year or lat this rate, the whole soft,
glossy mass would have lost its bril-
liant another year, at most,
and then she would be quite an old
woman, with hair as white rs her own
grandmothcr's had been.
Shc-Lizzie Hazledean AN "old
lady" a gray-no, a white-haircd wo-
man.
Could it be possible! Her heart
WAS as young as ever! When she
played with little Lizzie on the lawn,
at ball, or hattedore and shuttlccock.
it was hard to say which most enjoy
ed the game, she, or the child Of five
years. She could walk rs far and as
fast as in her girlhood. She could
oversee her household affairs rs well
as ever. But the white hair was
there before her, ever repeating It's
terrible lesson-"G Growing Old, grow.
ing old.'
1t was nearly tea time. She could
hear little Lizzie talking on the lawn.
TO her pet kitten and her doll, about
''time for papa to come, and what
papa would bring them when he
came" Down stairs in the kitchen,
and in the dining-room below her
chamber, she heard the ring and tin
Ille Of glass, and silver, and china,
and knew that Bridget was doing
her best to have everything III order
before the masters arrival.
Yet she sat still before the mirror,
wiping away a tear now and then and
choking back d sob. OF what use
were all the arts Of the toilet now
How long would Walter love her
after she was old and gray?
Suddenly there was wild cry OF
delight from the lawn, and Bridget
began to fly to and fro in her domin-
ions more swiftly than ever.
Had Walter come? II was full
half an hour before his usurl time.
Lizzie sprang to the window,
screened herself from observation be
hind the curtain, and peepea out.
Yes, there was her husband tossing
his child in the air, looking look and
handsome in his white linen suit and
dark-bluc tie, while little Lizzie was
like fairy in her white muslin dress
and rose-colored ribbons, and the
band Of roses that fastened back her
long, 1.ark curls.
But who was that beside them,
smiling at the excited child, and
talking to Walter in such low, sweet
tones?
A tall, elegant woman, slender, up
right and elegant, clad in the perfec-
ton of Partisan walking toilet, with
a fluffy cloud Of golden hair shadow
ing her low, white forehead, beneath
the bonnet of lace and tulle.
Mrs. Hazledean gazed at the un
welcome visitor in establishment and
horror, as she recognized her at last