The Portland daily press., 1875-06-21
lFrom Harper's Bazar.l
The Little Green Pocket
book.

1llC AIUUlC U1 CCn l. OCAOU
book.
John Singleton stood on the street corner,
waiting for his car. Business hours were
over; he was going home-a bachelors home
in q boarding house, but none the less CRATE
full to his imagination just then. A fine rain
fell, the pavement was clogged with sticky,
half-melted snow, and altogether the even
ing was comfortless as evening can well be in
early April, when the cheering hope of warm
suns and dry streets is Immediately at hand.
The jingling car came by, crowded as al
ways at that hour of the day. Mr. Singleton
had to run half a square in the mud to catch
it, proceeding which did not improve his
temper. He clutched a strap and gared
gloomily at the ladies who had monopolized
seats, resentfu, as business man is apt to
be, of the appearance of women in public
conveyances at hafpast in the afternoon.
Keeping his eye on the straw under foot, he
paid no attention whatever to his neighbors-
if. indeed one can be said to have such in
horse-railway carriage.
Sixteenth street-Twenty-fo fourth thirty
second-Fortieth. The Car emptied rapidly.
As the last lady left rose to get out, small
green book became visible, half hidden by the
folds of her gown
81 beg pardon-you have dropped some-
thing" said john, picking it up.
"Sirr'
"This book-you dropped it,"
The old lady looked acidly, first at the book
and then at John. ''The article is not mine,"
she remarked, frigidly. Then she got out.
Mr.. Singleton was the sole remaining pas
senger. His impulse was to hand the book
to the conductor, but glance at that wor-
thy's face checked him. 'Better ADVERTISE"
he thought: and signaling the car to stop,
he alighted in the mud of upper Broadway.
His landady opened the door in nervous
futter. "Oh, sir, it's you at last. There's
telegraphic boy been waiting for you ever SO
long"
Sure enough, there sat the boy; and the
result of his message was that in half an
hour John Singleton was speeding on his
way to Western New York by the night ex-
press, hastily placed satchel under his feet,
and his head full of other business than that
of finding owners to lost property. The lit
tie green pocket-book remained behind in
the pocket of the Office coat flung aside at the
moment of departure.
There it might have remained for months,
if, diving one day, man-fashion, after some
lost article, his fingers had not happened to
encounter it, This was fortnight or so at
ter his return.
s'Hallo! what's this % he said. 1t was a
moment before he recollected. ''Bless me !!
this is too bad. I had forgotten the thing
completely. l must be looking up the owner
if there's enough in it to pay for an advertise
ment."
He released the elastic strap and opened
the pages. There was no money, no place
for any. The little book was diary, shabby,
green bound, with no name on the title page.
Most of the leaves were blank, few only
being scrubbed over in a light girlish hand
writing John glanced over these in search
of clew, and pretty soon growing interested
drew his chair to the fire, cooked up hisafeet,
and proceeded to read regularly.
The diary began:
"October5-Last night Alice and Tom and
1 went to DR.. Bellows lecture. 1t was in
teresting. He said that the great thing in life
is direction, that is, that no matter how far
off our aims seem, if our faces are only set
toward them, we are sure to get there some
day. In the very middle of the cold winter,
he said, we turn corner, and begin to go
toward the spring, and it is as if we were
there, because we are certain. That is beau
tiful. l shall try to recoect it when things
seem especially contrary, as they do some
times.
''October ST. have been making my win
ter bonnet, or rather warming over the old
one, for it is Alice's turn to have the new
this year. She ought to always, she has to
see such stylish people in the houses where
she teaches. The old brown felt doesn't look
bad. considering it is its third appearance.
I've steamed the velvet, and cured the feath-
er with hot pen-knife, and tucked in little
blue bow, and Tom says it's gorgeous Tom
is always funny about my things.
s'The pudding Tom likes so much!
'sTake eight large baking apples, pare,
core, and lay them in deep dish. Put lit
tie sugar and mite of cinnamon in each.
Soak tea-cupful of tapioca in a quart of
luke-warm water for an hour, then pour on,
and bake till the apples are pink and tender.
Milk and sugar.
''Marianne gave me this recipe. Tom says
he wishes he could have it three times a
week, but tell him apples are very expensive.
November 1--we been to party, quite
a large one. 1t was at the Almys'. Ellen
Almy asked me, and papa said l might for
once, because it did no harm to see the van
ity of things. think the vanity of things is
very pleasant. There was great discussion
over what l should wear. Alice invented
trimming for my poplin out OF mama's old
blue silk, and lent me her locket and pock-
et-handkerchief trimmed with edging. Alice
is SO dear. left my hair down my back, be-
cause Tom likes it best so, and the blessed
boy made me a present of pair of new
gloves-kids, pale yellow, with two buttons.
I nearly cried over them, the poor fellow has
so little money; but he said Flossy must be
SWELL cost what it might. had rose for
my hair of Alice's bush, and altogether re-
garded myself as very fine, until 1 reached
Almys then, as papa would say, found my
level, for the girls were gorgeous, Lily in
white silk, Ellen in lovely pink Grape, with
her hair powdered. Oh! can't pretend to
remember, but they looked beautiful After
all, had just a nice time, for l danced every
dance, in spite of my old blue, the German
included. Such kind, pleasant boy took
me in 10 supper, and spoiled my gloves by
getting ice-cream on the thumb. Alice has
put on benzine, but they won't ever look so
nice again. However, l never expect to go
to any more parties, so, except for their be-
ing dear Toms present, it doesn't matter.
''Why what baby this is," soliloquized
John Singleton, at this point. 81 didn't
know there were any such girls left.'
November 15.-Studied, read, practiced,
made gems for tea. Papa called them CAPT.
tai.
'Christmas Day.-'The owl for all his
feathers is a-cold.' Just come from Church.
We decided not to give any presents to each
other this year, but spend the tiny bit we
could spare on Mrs. Maloney and the chicks,
Tom presented me with his Inda-ru
pencil, Mr.. SquiIes having given him a new
one.
"May 2.-How long it is since 1 wrote any,
thing in my daryl All our time has gone 70
papa. He is better now; but how frightened
we have been! 1t makes ne shiver to reco-
lect it. What could we do without papa?
Now Summer is near, and he will grow
strong. Alice and I have lost so much sleep
that we are drowsy as owls.
"June Papa is better, but Alice is all
tired out. How hard it is to be poor when
anybody is sick. l don't mind it in well
times.
'.August 10.-Papa feels little weaker,
but the doctor says it may be only the heat.
1 was thinking just now of the sea, the long,
cool roll of the breakers and the swasb, the
gulls diving and plunging, the crunching of
the sand under foot, hard yet soft. How de-
licious it would be to feel it all again! Per-
haps | shall dream about it tonight.
august 11-Ne l dreamed instead that
we were frying doCghnuts in hot kitchen.
What mIdsummer's dream! 1 am afraid |
have vulgar mind!
"October Allow little 1 guessed when I
wrote such foolish words what was going to
happen! Papa is dead. 1t was the 18th of
September. l can't write about it yet. Oh
papal
christmas again Such sad day! We
three have been sitting over the register all
the afternoon, and making our plans. Papa's