The Portland daily press., 1875-09-11
[From Harper's Bazar.l
My Wife's Nose.
BY ROSE TERRY.

Not that it was handsome. have over
and over heard people say, "Miss Clement
would have been pretty but for her nose" /
thought she was pretty in spite of it. The
nose was large, it is true, and peculiar, but
she had lovely gray eyes, with dark lashes,
darker than her nat brown hair, a sweet mis-
chievous, Sc nsitive mouth. and skin of
rose leaves. Still think I should have loved
her if she had been positively ugly. There
was that in her face which transcribed all
its form of coloring-there was a-Goodness
was always fool about Nanny, and here 1
am demonstrating it in print. Nanon Glenn
ent had French blood in her veins; her name
came from Breton grandmother. Certainly
she showed her race in the grace of her
bright, sweet manner, the sparkle of her con-
versation, and the taste of her dress; perhaps
she showed it in her nose.
After she condescended to marry me, we
went on the conventional bridal tour. l can
not say that travelling was altogether blissful
to Nan, now that look back On the journey,
but was too happy to notice her small pc
culiarities then. When we came home we
went to hotel till our house should be built.
Nan was passionately fond of flowers, and
our friends sent them in to us daily-a sort
of bridal offering paid to our new life and our
hotel life. Since we had no garden, and Ma
non loved flowers SO dearly, these good peo-
pie supplied her gladly. 1t was spring too,
and every garden in town bloomed and per-
fumed the air. At first we had sweet violets
and mignonettes from the Conservatives,
and my wife hung over them like honey
bee.
I liked to see her large sensitive nostril d.
late with the delicate odor. forgot that
her nose was not Grecian or piquant when it
became SO expressive, have seen it dila.e
equally with scorn or anger. In fact, this
little woman's flesh always seemed to be a
sort of veil to her soul, nothing more. If it
was pretty with the bloom of youth and its
roundness, that was a separate matter. Her
"spirit o'erinformed its clay' always. But
sometimes this matter of the nose astonished
me then; it has astonished me great many
times since.
One day somebody sent us such superb
basket of hyacinths. The crisp translucent
spirals of bells were softly crowded together,
their vernal tints contrasted and defined by
the contact. There was the very clouded
pink of early dawn, the silvery saffron of sun
rise, the deep and stormy rose-tint Of sun
set after tempest, the palid tainting blue of
April skies, the deep azure of midsummer
noon, the snow bell that seemed chiseled
from misty alabaster, and the real hyacinthine
purple. No other flower offers such delicate,
6uCA CA4uioltC liulo duu uCAJulC, lOI tuc UcA-
ture is the secret of the tint. / thought Nan
would be overjoyed. carried the slight
straw basket that held them, deep bedded in
damp green moss, to our parlor. and set it on
the shining surface of a table that was topped
with black marble. The polished surface
gave back faint reflex of the tints that hung
over it. The whole made a picture.
I sat down in the window to wait for my
wife, who had gone out shopping. I wanted
A. Inrl n4I % AL. ~ -.
Presently the door opened. Her quick eye
caught the group of blossoms at once, and
kindled with admiration. Her nose quiv-
cred little, like the nostrils of high bred
horse that perceives something doubtful in
his path; look of pale disgust swept over
her delicate bloom, she pressed her handker-
chief to her face with slight shudder, stepped
quickly forward, grasped all those beauteous
bells in her. long white fingers, and-threw
them out of the window.
was Mortified. What did it mean?
'sNanr' said /, 'swhat is the matter
Why did you throw those lovely things out
of the Window"
"oh, Jack, I can't bear the smell; they
are sickening."
''Sickeningl Why, they are delicious; and
snch splendid specimens; all from the best
Dutch bulbs. and old Mrs, Hermann sent
them to you"
81 can't help it; if they came from the
angel Gabriel should send them out of the
window just So" was the singular girls re.
ply. Sand / want to tell you, Jack, don I
ever bring in TO me that horrid brown thing
you call strawberry plant, or syringa bios
SONS, or one narcissus. l hate them; they
choke and nauseate me-"
This was queer, to be sure. but no special
matter. We have our tastes in flowers, all
ofus; I, for my part, would as soon have a
yellow dog without a tail about the house as
an althea bush under the window; marigolds
are an abomination, and phloxes disgust to
me. prefer sunfower TO peony, and an
anatomical preparation to hydrangea; so
thought no more about the hyacinths.
But before long began to find, when I
came home from business, that all the winds
of heaven were often blowing through nv
wife's parlor, and she herself, wrapped in a
shawl, sitting in the full draught. Naturally
demonstrated.
''Nanny dear, you will catch cold.'
"Oh no; and if do, tits better than this
horrid smell.''
81 don't smell any thing"
why, Mrs. Brown has been here to call,
so scented with musk I could scarcely be civil
to her."
Or perhaps Mrs. Peters had been odorous
of mille-feurs, or Mr.. Green of patchouli.
The only perfume Nan could endure was
German cologne, and that only one particular
bread. began to pity my wife; she could
describe the hotel dinner daily before our flu
ent waiter ratified off the list; nay, before we
reached the dining room, from her power OF
smell alone. She could tell that our wash
woman had fried cakes on ironing day from
the odor of the clothes, and Mrs. Sullivan
had her ideas enlarged on the subject fire.
quently and persistently; always declaring,
and even swearing, that she "niver fried a
ha'porth av nothin' whin the clothes about''
"a statement always quietly ignored by nv
wife as if unheard. Then began to take an
interest in the matter physiologically. I tried
to class the scents she affected, and evolve
some fundamental reason for the pleasure
they gave her, but there was a curious ca.
price about them. Why should she like wall.
flowers and object to stocks, except at dis
lance, saying they had an undertone of raw
cabbage? Why did mignonette, English VIC
lets, heliotrope, please her, and not orris root
She loved the scent of all summer roses, but
atearrose made her sick, like swinging. She
would hang an hour over great sheaf OF tu'
lips. gently inhaling their quaint odor. while
hyacinth or narcissus was disgusting to
her. orange blossoms, sephantotis, tube
roses, made her fairly i'll. Shall ever forget
going with her one night to regimental re.
ceptionl Inc colonel was one our best
1riends, ana The regiment just leaving for the
field: Nanny was an enthusiastic patriot: it
cut her to the heart to think / was lame and
could not 60 with the rest, though she de-
clared she was glad of it, and at times ne T
haps she was. All we could do was to afford
aid and comfort to our comrades who couId
go; and when Colonel Blunt sent for rs 10 no
to his house that evening and say goodbv. q,
course we went. 1t was lovely night, fros.
ty, but brilliant, and Mrs. Blunts parlors
were crowded; half the officers were Irish
men, part of the rest rough farmers who had
left their plows, if they had not turned theil
shares into swords. Besides these was hos
of civilians-deicate a1d elegant women
fresh young girls, few men who could moi
go to the war, even as / could not, a few who