Litchfield enquirer., 1876-04-27
From Harper's Magazine. JUST N TIME.

might have been the EncflanG0Q 1atace where the beaatifal Princess of famous memory slept for hundred years. and every body about her slept, from the first tiring- woman down to the lowest scullion. .sq.
 It certainly was the enchanted clGteGss, for in the great saloon 8 maid held fast by the gilt cbair she ought to have been dust ing, and nodded, brush in hand. The steward nodded in his den over a long account that would not return a verdict sufficiently in his favor. The chief butlei nodded in pantry as ifedolng worship to the glittering array of plate set out to be secured. Slaves, gathered from 30 many different quarters of the globe that when awake they made the house new Tower of Babel, slept too soundly, in any conven- tent spot which offered, to nod at all. From the dark dungeons underneath. where huge, wicked furnace wlnked a drowsy red eye, to the furthest attic, in which small maid had fnlieu asleep in the act of hiding cake purloined from last nights festival, not sound, not so. much as breath from the chill wind that com plained without. The Enchanted Palace, surely; for. behold, in an upper chamber which looked like an enamel picture by some rare old Flemish artist, sat tG belle au bois dormant, snowy draperies, golden hair, and all. Her eyes W ere open, a book on her knee; but she saw neither line of the volume nor any thing about her.
 A Sleeping Beauty. ,surfeited with the good things of this world, who did not mean to be lazy or selfish, but whom noth- ing interested specially; who was bored by people, tired of amusements; to whom nothing of any consequence ever happen ed, or ever would-heigho !-who needed, in short, a hard mental shaking, strong sensation. so powerful blast from some bugle, whether the call of duty. love, or necessity, that her soul would wake from it's trance. fA s
 It was dark, miserable morning. The clouds were evidently inclined for a storm; but. not able to decide between rain and snow, they. took it ont in looking sullen and black, just as a woman -pouts when she cannot make up her mind whether to scold or cry.
 Blanche Osgood nestled lower in the easy chair by her dressing room fire, and mentally vowed that she would not stir for hundred years at least. She was fond of making exaggerated statements which would have caused our grandmoth- CTS to stare In horror; but we of the latter half of this wonderful century are not easily surprised into staring. and are nev- CT mortified, by words or deeds.
 Presently the picture of still life was broken, without the slightest remorse on the part of the intruder. Aunt Deb came in like whirlwind, sent to announce the arrival of the Huntsman and his train. She had just swept through the house and startled every slumberer into guilty con- fusion, causing the steward hopelessly to blot his list of figures, and so alarming the small maid by her voice in the halls below that she dropped her stolen sweets and incontinently sat upon them till they were fatter than her funny little nose.
 "A fine hracing morning. rrennnneed Aunt Deb, dressed to go out, and muffied to her eyebrows, according to her habit. It was one of her pet insanities always to believe herself in danger of a sore throat. though she never got it any more than if her bronchial tubes were made of brass. GA brisk, tingling air, Blanche.
 "Ugh ]" said Blanche, in disgust, un- consciously initiating the sound where with, according to popular tales of border life, Indian chiefs invariably begin and end 8 conversation.
 "The carriage is at the. door," contin- ued Aunt Deb, regard lessof that contempt tuous utterance.
 .'Let it stay there, if it ikes," quoth Blanche, lazily. -
 "Not I" pronounced Deb, shaking her feathers and her furs as vigorously as if she suspected moths therein. II am going straight down to fight that committee"
 Blanche did not know what one she meant. and was too indolent to ask. Aunt Deb was always fighting some committee or other-w whether she had the slightest concern therein or any business to meddle being matter of no consequence.
 ''The're set of noodles. pursued Deb, holding her head fercely, "and so I'll tell them in plain English before I've done"
 ''I would" agreed Blanche, not from amiability-just to get rid of the subject the only reason that makes any of us agree with our relations.
 and gesticulating. "I'd engage to make frunella. Blanche looked Tsweetly con- her promise. II would!" persisted Deb, wrathfully. -'5*' '5s. .
 'I never doubted it." sighed Blanche.
 My promising, or my ability to do it?" demanded Deb, beginning to laugh at her own excitement. 4 '7'1t
 ''Either-both," replied Blanche, try ing politely to turn @ yawn into 8 smile; but Aunt Deb's sharp eyes convicted her in the act.
 "You're asleep yet" she said. ''I'm sure you didn't dance enough last night to tire you." - -.tI -a.7.ssI
 "No; but it was so stupidl' moaned Blanche. "Don'tlet's ever give another party, aunty."
 Pooh pooh Other people enjoyed themselves. There was enough to eat, anyhow, and that's more than can be said for half the parties one goes to-"
 Blanche did not even make pretense of listening.
 And you don't want to go ont ?, asked
 'Go out ?" repeated Blanche. with slow disdain. ''Tm not an utter idiot, thank goodness r'ssis ss @ai
 My dear Fee," returned Deb. .'the shade that keeps you from being one is so very slight that would not waste much thankfulness thereupon."
 'A AA0u bHSy DOtA AauRu6Us LOT buGy were accustomed to abusing each other in. a good-natured way. which proved less dan gerous in their case than it does in thatpof relations generally. F a4sxs,ess B.
 Pm of. said Deb, rushing back into her normal state of haste. gstY You may pity that committee. if you've any to waste, for they'll need it before I've done with them, I'll give you my word. a's essaaae 4z.
 I've not donbt of that" answered Blanche; .'bnt I'm too full of myself this morning to pity any body" 2, -
 "Pooh ]" snapped Deb, wrathfnlly, and stopped doown with as much ferocitys as If she meant to bite the pretty face leaning back against the silk cushions: but .she kissed it tenderly instead, and departed without further ceremony, 34F1
 Fee-a name self given in her childish days. which clung to her stllI-returned to her novel, though she read it with care lessness and inattention which would have been aggravating enough to the author if he had been there to watch-provided he could have thought of anything besides her loveliness. s4s1s s.e'i She could look through the windows along the Avenue across Madison Square. and down tho cfro0fS hnlo,w vvlo,., @Ia