The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1876-03-31

but DO IL all myself, James"
Exactly. You are stitching your
life into the garments of children who
would be far happier, healthier, and
better in the simple clothing suited to
their years."
"You are so old-fashioned, James.
You would not have your children look
like frights ?"
"You know as well as I can tell you
that like to see them neat and clean,
but l do not like to see them dressed
like fashion-plates at the expense of
your health" /"
"Oh, I am we'll enough. 1 am pale to-
day because sat up last night. But 1
must dress for church, or we will be
late"
The glad Easter service passed over
Mrs. Henley with but little Impression.
To her chagrin, the little Goodwins,
who had all their dresses direct from
New York, had an entirely new style of
overskirt, that made Jennie, Susie and
Lotta look quite old-fashioned in the
eyes of their mother. While the ser
mon was read, Mrs. Henley was trying
to contrive some way of remodeling the
obnoxious skirts. All the triumph of
the morning in the really beautiful
dresses was gone. The Goodwin girls
outdressed the Henley girls.
Summer came, and the long spring
days were spent in preparing a seaside
wardrobe for the children, for Mr.. Hen
ley, by the advice of his physician, was
going to take his wife to the ocean air.
The pain in her side had become very
! troublesome, and there was a little
hacking cough that meant wakeful
nights. The pale cheeks were seldom
tinged with a healthy color, and her
eyes were languid and heavy. People
spoke pityingly of Mrs. Hanley as
"quite an invalid" and her husband
mourned over the alteration of his wife,
He insisted upon having physician,
who advised fresh air, exercise, and a
tonic.
And Abba obediently swallowed the
tonic. took daily walk, and then made
up for "lost time" by stitching far into
the night. For were not the Good
wins, the Wilcoxes, and all the leading
fashionables of l. going to the same
hotel where Mr.. Henley had taken
rooms, and could Jennie, Susie, or Lolita
have one inch less of ruffiing and tuck
ing than they already possessed
Mr.. Henley protested in vain. If he
sent a seamstress to help his wife, it
only gave an excuse for a dress or two
more to be made, and he finally gave
up the attempt to bring Abba to a more
reasonable ambition. He was an affec-
tionate husband, kind father, liberal
in providing for his family, but his sal
ary was not sufficiently large to rival
the expenditure of the fashionable
friends Abba had made. 1t was en-
tirely vain to tell him that it was in
his wife's favor that she could, upon
smaller means, dress herself and chill
dren as well as any in l.. He OBJ
stinately maintained that his wife's
health, her ompaniouship, her interest
in his pursuits, in the books he read,
her music and her sweet voice were far
more valuable than twenty-seven
flounces on Jennie's dress, or fifty tucks
on Lotta's skirt.
Still, he endured as patiently as
might be the loss he deplored of Abba's
bright interest in what had interested
both. He tried to admire the really
exquisite specimens of needlework
brought for his inspection.
He only shrugged his shoulders when
his little girls MINCED along with
dainty, fine-lady airs, instead of bound
ing with the freedom of childhood. He
bore the steady whirr of the sewing ma
chine in sthe evening, instead of the
voice or music of his wife.
But when Abba's health began to
give away, he exerted his authority,
and found he had been silent too long.
The love of dress had grown stronger,
and the ambition that had taken such
a deplorable path could not be put
aside. Abba submitted to all James
directions while he was beside her, and
worked doubly hard when he was away.
But when the summer wajrobes
were completed, the dainty bathing
dresses trimmed, and the Saratoga
trunks packed, Abba faithfully prom
ised James to rest during their soiourn
at the seaside. With a sudden con-
sciousness of growing weakness, there
came to her an appreciation of her hus-
bands love and patience that had been
numbed. She began to realize that she
had let her ambition for dress over.
shadow her love for her husband, and
that she had wronged him in depriving
him of the companionship he haC
priced so highly.
81 will rest while I am gone, anG
when come back, James, will give
my evenings to you, as I did when we
were first married.n
This was her parting promise, never
to be enacted. Only few days. resi-
: were allowed her before an acute attack
of lung fever prostrated her. jaime:
left his business to hurry to the
seaside, a nurse was engaged, anC
medical skill did its utmost. But the
constitution weakened by confinement
and overwork could not resist the dis
ease, and, while the summer days were
in their full beauty, Mrs. Henley knew
she was dying.
1t was bitter thought. Life held Sc
much that was precious. Her kind
loving husband, her beautiful children
her happy home-all must be left.
"A mysterious dispensation of Provi.
dence," said Mrs. Goodwin. "Such 6
good mother. And those children are
just the age when they most need 6
mothers care.n 'aeta
But Abba Henley, in the. dread houl
when she bade farewell to hope, wounC
her arms around her husbands necE
, and sobbed:
eff 1 had only listened to you, James
/ might have been guide to our chill
dren, companion to you for many
years, and when l died have left lovins
memories, instead of a trunk of fint
clothing. I have wasted my life"
And James Henley, in his widower'
weeds, with his three little girls il
somber black beside him, wonder
: mOurnfully how many of the mother
of the land are wasting their lives il
I H.. -. r.