The Saline County journal. [volume] (Salina, Kan.) 1871-1893, 1879-02-27
szl,sreA ang.
OF COURSES,

How to Keep a Domestic Treasure.
From Harpers Weekly,
''Gwendolen!" from Mrs. Olivia Glen
moreland's sanctum.
"Jessle!" from Mr.. Gerald Glenmore
lands studio.
Eyes, ma'am-yes, sir," from the pretty
little maid coming up the stairs. She
stops a moment when she reaches the
landing, as though considering which
summons to answer first, and as she
pauses, handsome young man leans ov.
er the baluster and looks down upon her,
and as looks he thinks that never gazed he
he upon Prettier picture.
A slight, graceful young girl, with
serious dark eyes, delicately cut features
clear, pale face, and light, wavy brown
hair. showing little specks of gold as the
sunlight falls through the hall window
upon it, parted simply on the low broad
brow, and riplIng away behind the lovely
ears until lost in the heavy Grecian col, at
the back of the small round head, in a
closely cllnging dress OF some soft, dark
material, with knot of garnet ribbon at
the throat, and a sister-knot on each lace
trimmed pocket of the dainty white apron.
"Oh! | say. browneyes, he calls out
cheerlly, as the girl, becoming conscious
of his presence, looks ND with a smile.
will you pose for me?"
AS soon as can, Mr.. Denys," she re-
Plies In a voice softer and sweeter, but as
frank and CHEEKY as his own. "Your
father and mother both called me. |
must attend to them first" And as his
handsome head is withdrawn, she enters
the room on the right, which one can
see at glance. is the den of a sculptor.
and sculptor who, If it be true that
good order is the foundation of all good
things" can never hope to attain any
wondrous hight in his profession. Half
finished statuettes and busts, dilapidated
arms, legs and torsos in clay, plaster and
marble, are standing and living about In
the greatest confusion. Over Shakes
peare's domelike forehead droops a broad
brimmed hat; from the throat of dane
ing faun stream the long ends of silken
neck-tie; and flower-girl offers with her
flowers pair of crumpled kid gloves and
soiled collar. The sculptor himself-an
odd-looking man with wildish black eyes,
and massive head covered with a tang
led mass Of the darkest curls, a gray
thread cleaning here and there-attired
IN blouse, the back OF which alone gives
hint OF Its original color, is regarding
with critical gaze half nodded bust on
the table before him. which in turn re-
CARDS him with the blank stare peculiar to
its kind.
All! there You are" he said APPROX
lngly, as Jessie comes quietly in. Il. is
well. want your nose, my chill. It's
Just the nose for Elaine. Couldn't find
any better If searched the wide world
Ger. Stand over there by Hercules-ihat's
a dear-and look at Mephistopheles. And
he commences to sing In strong ifnot al
together musical voice the Gold Song
from Faust, as the voices from the opposite
room calls again, 'Gwendolen!"
Ian you spare my nose a little while
SIR? asks the model, still looking steadily
at the grlnning tempter in the corner,
but with a CLEAN of mischief in her bonnv
brown eyes. Mrs. Glenmoreland is calf
ing"
''Oh. all yes, wendolen''-workins
away. How long have you been Gwen
dolen?"
For two weeks past. sir. Ever since
mistress began The Prince and the Dairy
maid. May go. sir?" still, best of mod.
els. with her eyes fixed on the fend.
You may; but come back soon; for
kings may die and employers lose their
crowns: but art is deathless, and forever
reigns."
'.Yes, sir" assents Jessie, demurely.
and trips away.
Mrs. Glenmoreland. sitting before her
desk. on which is piled many sheets of
paper covered With eye-exasperatinc chi
Biography, her right hand nervousiy way-
ing her pen about, her left hand grasping
her fluffy hair, to its great arrangement,
allows the wrinkle of perplexed Thought
on her brow to melt away as the pretty
girl appears
''Gwendolen. my DEAR" she exclaims.
turning suddenly toward her, and thereby
scattering the pile of manuscript in every
direction. 81 want your ear. She has the
most correct ear'-this to an elderly lady
who is sewing industriou.ly by small
workable in the center of the room. Now
my prose is excellent, and my poetry not
bad-so | am told; but sometimes NV
rhymes don't rhyme exactly. and that sort
of thing is only allowed TO tn. very great
est of poets. I'm introducing a battle
song IN the last chapter of my novelette,,
and m In doubt about 'hurrah' and
'war-'rah' and war. Are they twins.
Vi aAc tht Hut. VNtIuoleu!
But before Gwendolen. who is on her
knees picking up the scattered papers. can
reply. somebody comes down the stairs
with a rush, and bolts into the sanctum.
Mother, kiss your little ink-stained
hngers," he says. But all the same |
must have Browneyes: want her arm. Nv
grape-gatherer is waiting for the where-
withal to gather the grapes"
rs It'll mean are they?' asks Mrs.
Glenmoreland. as Jessie puts the manu-
script on the desk again. and places a pa
per weight upon it. And then she smiles
at her son, who, after tenderly ruf.iing the
ruffisd hair still more. kisses the brow be-
meath it.
Il don't think they are, modestly an
swers Jessie.
And now, Browneyes. your arm!"
cries Denys, striking melodramatic stti-
tude.
I'm afraid you can't have it lust vet.
Mr.. Denys, lhaye promised your father |
my nose for an h II or So" says Brown.
syss, dropPipg cunning little courtesy. |