The Milan exchange. (Milan, Gibson County, Tenn.) 1874-1978, 1878-05-23
AT THE CHURCH FAR.
. May Festival Pictures.

He was a dapper little fellow with
struggling side-whiskers of a golden
hue and with smile that was never at
rest He smiled at the music, he smiled
at the applause, he smiled at the usher,
he smiled at the beautiful girl by his
side, he smiled through his tears at the
wheezy old gentleman who stepped
his corns. He was the new beau, and
the girls mother was along.
The old gentleman's look was half
pleased, half surprised, and two-thirds
puzzled, with perhaps a fraction of
disappointment. He kept steady eye
on the stage and never relaxed the
muscles of his features until the pro-
gramme was completed. He was the
party who didn't know any thing about
music, but thought he'd have to come
and see the hall and find out what the
tarnal thing was like, any how.
The young lady had brought along a
big assortment of adjectives and scat
tered them about without stint. Some
times twas exquisite, superb, delight
full, charming, grand, elegant, beauti-
full, Splendid" while the next moment
it might be "horrid, wretched, misera-
bic, or dreadful bad" She is supposed
to be the warbler who pours out the
"Maiden's Prayer" so indefatigably
that every other house in the block is
placarded I" For Rent"
You would have judged him to be
gentleman of extremely sensitive and
emotional nature. Frequently during
the rendition of some deeply expressive
passage his eyes were sutfuSed with
tears, and often, very often, was his
face buried in cambria, as if the memo
ry of some happy long ago, recalled by
the tender melody, had unnerved him.
He was the man with cold in his head.
He was a lonesome, forlorn looking
body, meek and uneasy, like. He was
edging timidly around through the
crowd about the walls, eraning his neck,
and peering anxiously in all directions,
and paying no heed to the progress of
the entertainment, leaving discontinue
and sore toes in his wake without no.
tice or apology. He was the man who
had got separated from his wife in the
throng coming in. - 1
She was a woman of short, stumpy
build, fiorid face and a high-pressure
breathing apparatus. She carried an
umbrella big enough to roof tent and
a couple of extra wraps to be ready for
a change of weather. She kept on the
move until well-nigh exhausted and
thoroughly bewildered, when she drop
ped into a vacant seat, and obliged the
riohtful owner to balance himself on his
boot-heels, rather than disturb a lady
so comfortably situated. She was the
woman who had lost her husband: His
loss was her gain, i
His mouth was open and his head
kept nodding in time to the music, while
the fingers of his left hand danced on his 1
thumb, and the noise of pattlng boot
could be traced to his neighborhood. He
was fiddler from the country. ifl
About her was an air of hauteur, but
her hat was Just lovely and constantly
under the fire of lorgnettes. She quail
fed her approval of every rendition, and |
tried hard to look bored, and yawn lit
tie now and then. She was the young
lady recently returned from abr6ad.
He had the score before him, and |
listened with dropped ear; sometimes
he would give his head a deprecatory |
shake, and put on look of wisdom that
would have made Solomon look like a |
market huekster. but whenever he did /
applaud he seemed to give his whole
mind up to it, and sailed in to make all |
the noise he could He was the leader
Of church choir, and knew how it was
himself.
Floating and dry was his hair, pierre
ing his eye and remorseless its glare,
and his cheek it was haggard and bare.
bumped up on the edge Of the chair he
sat, busily writing on the top OF his hat, /
at rafting, galloping. reckless speed.
IN 4 hand that no mortal being could
read, with knowing grin and a sar-
ionic leer that meant an impartial opin-
on. without favor or fear. lie was the
EDITOR of the SkedHnk Scdlper, and
realized the importance of his position. I
Cincinnati Breakfast Table. !