Northern tribune. [volume] (Cheboygan, Mich.) 1875-1885, 1875-11-13
MY wHE's NOSE,


ent wouiv nave oeen pretty but for her
nose." | thought She was pretty in
spite OF 1t. The nose was large. it is
true, and peculiar, but she had lovely
gray eyes, with dark lashes, darker than
her nut-brown hair. a sweet. misch'ev-
Gus, sensitive mouth. and a SKIN OF rose
leaves. Still think | should nave loved
her if she had been positively ugly.
There was that i'm her face which trans
cende,l ALI its form or coloring.-there
was a-Goodness always was fool
4. ahout Nanon, and here 1 am demonstrate
ing it i'm print. Nanon Clement had
French blood i'm her veins; her name
came from Breton grandmother. Ger
fainly she showed her race in the bright,
sweet manner, the sparkle of her cofNer-
sation, the taste of her dress; perhaps
she showed it i'm her nose.
After she cOndescended to marry me
we went on the conventional bridal tour.
1 cannot say that travelling was alto.
gether blissful to Nan. now that look
back on that journey. but l was too hap
Ply to notice her small peculiarities then
When we came home we went to hote
till our house should be built. Nan wa:
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 Nanon loved flowers so dear
iy. these good people supplied her glad
w. 1t was spring. too. and every garden
in the town bloOmed and perfumed the
air. At first we had sweet viOlets and
mignonette from the conservatOries, and
my wife hung over them like honey
bee.
iikeorto see her large, sensitive nos
trils dilate with the delicate Odor.
forgot that her nose was not Grecian or
piquant when It became so expressive.
5 have seen it dilate equally with scorn
or anger. In fact. this woman's flesh
ALWAYS seemed to be sort of veil to her
soul. nothing more. 1t was pretty with
the bloom of youth; and its roundness.
that was separate matter. Her 'spirit
o'er-informed its clay" always. But
sometimes this matter of the nose as
tonished me then; it has astOnished me
a great. many times since.
One day somebody sent us such a
superb basket of hyacinths! The crisp.
translucent spires 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 siivery saffron of sunrise, the
deep and stormy rose tint of sunset after
4 tempest, the pallid, fainting blue OF
April skies, the deep azure of midsum-
mer noon. the sI:Ow-bells that seemed
chiseled from misty alabaster. and the
: real hyacinthine purple. No other
flowers offer such delicate. such exquis-
tie tints and texture, for the texture is
the secret of the tint. | thought Nan
would be overjOyed. l carried the
slight straw basket that held them. deep
bedded i'm damp. green moss, TO our
parlOr, and set it on the shining surface
of table that was topped with black
marble. The polished surface gave back
a faint reflex Ofsthe tints that hung Ovel
at The whole made picture.
L sat down in the window to wait fol-
my wife who had gone out shopping.
wanted to see her look of delight a. she
came in. Presently the door opened
Her quick eye caught the group OF bios
SONS mt once. and kindled with admira-
ton. Her nose quivered little. like the
nOstrils of high-bred horse that per-
ceives something doubtful i'm his path
ii look of pale disgust swept over her
delicate bloom. she pressed her handker-
chief to her face with a slight shud,ier.
steppc, quickly forward. graSped all
those beauteOus bells i'm her long. whit,
fingers, and-threw them ont of the
window.
was horrifi,al. What did il mean?
Nan" said l, ''what is the matter.
Why did you throw those lovely things
OFT of the Window"
20 Jack, can't bear the smell they
are sickening."
.Sickening! Why. they were deli
cious. and such specimens: all from
the best Dutch bulbs. AMI old Mrs. Har-
mann sent them to YOU"
II can't help it: if they came from the
angel Gabriel. should send them out o.
the window inst so.' was the singular
girls reply. =
'And / want to tell you, Jack. dom
ever bring into me that horrid brown
thing you call strawberry plant, or syrin
ga blossoms, or one narcissus L hate
them; they choke and nauseate me-"
This was queer. to be sure, but nc
special matter. We have our own taste
In flowers, all of us; /. for my part
would as soon have yellow dog with
out tail about the house as an althea
bush under the window; marigolds are
an abOminatiOn, and phloxes a disgust to
me. [ prefer sunfiOwer to ny
drangea; so thought no more about the
hyacinths.
But before long began to find, wher
came home from business, that all thu
winds of heaven were blowing through
my wife's parlOr, and she herself wrap
ped in a shawl. sitting i'm the ful
draught. Naturally, demonstrated.
"Nan6h, dear. you will catch cold"
"Oh, no: and if do, it is better than
this horrid SMELL"
Il don't smell anything"
70
call, so scented with musk could scarce
ly he civil to her."
Or perhaps Mrs. Peters had been odOr.
Gus of millefieurs, or Mr.. Green of patch
ouli. The only perfume Nan could en-.
dure was German cologne, and that only
Of one particular brand. l began tC
pity my wife: she could describe the
hotel dinner daily before our fluent
waiter ratified off the list, nay, before we
reached the hail. from her powers OF
smell alone. She could tell that Oul
washerwoman had fried cakes on ironing
day, from the OdOr of the clothes, and
Mrs. Sullivan had her ideas enlarged ire
quently and persistently, ALWAYS declar-
ing and even swearing that she s.niyer
fried a ha'porth av nothin' when the
clothes was about statement ALWAYS
quietly ignored by my wife as if un-
heard.
Then began to take an interest i'm the
matter physiologically. 1 tried to class
the scents she affected. and evolve some
fundamental. reason for the pleasure
they gave her, but there was curiOn;
caprice about them. Why should sht
like wall flowers and object to stocks
except at distance, saying they had ar
undertone of raw cabbage? Why die
mignonette, English violets, and hello
frope please her, and not orris root
She loved the scent OF all summer roses