The New York herald. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1840-1920, 1877-12-30

: life as chamber which We decorate as we
would decorate tho chamber OF the woman or the
youth whom we love, tntng the walls OF y with
symphonies OF subdued color and hlling II WHIP works
Of fair form and with flowers, and with strange
scents, and with instruments OF music And ths can
be done wel--bctter, rather, than ut any for
mer time since know that many OF the old
aims false, and cease 10 be distracted by them
We have learned the WEAKNESS Of creeds and know
that Tor US the grave has secrets We have learned
that the ann OF life 10 life; and what does successful
lie consist in? SIMPLY SAID Mr. Rose, speaking
very slowly and with soft soemnity siu tho con-
seriousness oil exquisite living In making our own
be it some touch OF color the on The noun
tains. tho early dew IN the crimson shadows 81
rose, the shining OF a womans limbs In clear water,
Here, unfortunately sound OF "Sh' broke softly
from several mouths. Mr. Rose was slightly dscon-
awkward seemed imminent. Laurence, 20 prevent
this, did the first thing that occurred 10 him. anu
hastily asked Dr. Jenkinson what his view OF tho
Tho Doctors answer came his very sharpcst
voice.
"Do any ofus know what lie is2" ne said. hadn't
We better find that out Irstr'
life" continued Mr.. Rose, s'who had now re-
covered himself, Is series OF moments ana emo
tionsn
Sand series OF absurdtes too, very Often" said
DR.. JcnkipsOn.
.'Iie IS solemn mystery" said Mr. storis Sc
vereiy
.Iile is a damned nusancel' muttered Leslie to
himself, but just loud enough to DO heard py Lazy
Ambrose. who smiled at him with sense of humor
that won his heart at once.
10 the American reader the book jacks great ueai
OF that personal interest 1t necessarily nds IN Eng
land, where IL burst like thundcrclap through the
quiet sky oil sellsalsfactFon.
'MEuM Er TUuM
Tho above Is the title OF little volume OF poems
written by Ruth Natalie Cromwell and published by
George w. Carleton Il Co. Mrs. Cromwell has shown
a versatile talent, and many OF her poems are marked
by simplicity and feeling that will commend them
to the general reader. We quote one entitled ITO My
Husband" as fair specimen OF tho authors styc:-
+. Five years old when was born
Vas thoro no WIND that blew,
No gossiping breeze abroad that morn,
To murmur the song to your 0H
Where tho birds ana the wild bees gone
Could they not see nor hear2
Not u ncighDorly strcafn TO watch for the dawn
To ripple word IN your ear?
No sign, no glimpse In the morning light.
No hint in tho boboihk's call;
No vigant sunbeam there 10 write
A telegram on tho wall.
Out with the roses rcd aud white
Down IN the grassy dell,
When the four Icafrd clovcrS met your eight.
Had they no news TO tell
No sign to give, no word TO say,
To lad so blithe and tree,
or the baby GIRL whose bark that day
Was launched on u perilous sea.
All, gossping breeze that paascd that WY
You'll talk til the stars grow dim,
Yet never could tell OF tho GIT that lay
In July's lap Tor him.
Birds ana bees and blossoms are dead
That haunted the wood that MORN
The garrulous breeze hath long since fed,
The stream TO the river hath gone
No word they said, but we were wed,
And tho years roll over the land.
And Fate, who st Is spinning her thread,
Works on with a tircless hand.