The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1879-09-20

where we live, am sure. -
Nothing OF the sort, mamma. He
minds a great deal. There is nothing
ne hates ike an omnibus, and cabs ali
this distance are an immense expense.
tie ought not to take them half so often
as ne does" For all her blue, sleepy
eyes and fluff of golden hair, pretty
Maud had keen eye for the main
chance.
Yes, and the most provoking thing
about it is that if pa would only sto1
buying those ridiculous old things he IS
90 fond Of, we could go where we liked
and live like other people," remarked
Matilda, the next girl in age, casting
. look Of displeasure around the room.
1t was hideons room, Matilda thought,
old-timy and queer; but to an artist it
would have been a treasure-trove, very
paradise Of quaint and picturesque and
valuable disorder.
For old Mr.. Beyel's hobby was bric-a-
brac, and the house was stuffed with his
acquisitions through forty years of prac
tice. Like all pioneers in special lines
Of taste, he suffered the fate of being re-
garded by his contemporaries as little
better than maniac. With him the
taste was Unborn. He had been col
lectorl before his marriage, twice col
iector since. Beginning in those early
days when there were few competitors in
the art he had worked the rich mine thor
oughly before others became aware of
its value. Little by little his treasures
had accumulated Armor, brasses.
carved furniture, china of every age and
style, fragments of rich stuffs. of altar
linen, ancient missals and breviaries.
quaint tones in early English, worries
creamed by time to delicious yellow.
bits Of bronze, of silver, old tapestries
threadbare and furnished but still splen-
did, lace, pictures, parchments, spoils of
cottage and cathedral, and quaint Tu-
dor mansion-there thy were, crowding
every crevice and corner, every cup
board and closet, till Mrs. Bevel de-
clared that she couldn't turn round in
peace, and should inevitably go crazy if
one single thing more were added to the |
stock. The dusky shabbiness of the |
house made picturesque background
for these ancient nseubles, but pictur- |
esquesness was lost in the younger Bev-
els, and only shabbiness was discernible. |
As they sat there in the early twilight, |
Matilda groaned for probably the fiftieth |
time over the wallpaper, mellowed by
time into delicious mixture of neutral /
tint and warm apricot, against which |
the dull, superb carvings of Delhi
cabinet stood out respondent, its top |
crowded with rare Jars, The apricot |
grayncss was simply dirt to Matilda's
eyes dull, common, everyday wear
and tear; the cabinet was
clumsy; the high-backed Venetian
chairs on either side ugly and hard to
sit on. What she longed for was a
smart gilt hanging, stars, perhaps, or
polka dots--a polka dot was so stylish
always-and "suite'' of modern wal
nut and green, such as could be had in
the Tottenham Court Road for E9 los.
the eight pieces. She hated old things
rubbish, she called them-and had I
eyes for neither grace of form nor charm
of color which did not wear the stamp
of to-day's brief popularity.
"Oh dear!" she sighed, as her eyes
ran over the accustomed objects which
to her were such unspeakable grievances,
q fairly dread to see pa come home,
he's SO sure to fetch in some ugly thing
or other to add to our trials. Maud Sim
namon has just got the loveIiest pair of
vases-blue, with the Emperor and EN-
press on them, and only ten and six
pair--fancy! wanted some like them
so dreadfulIy that / borrowed one to
show pa hoping he'd be tempted. But,
fancy ne Just made up a sort OF face,
and gave 1t . push, and said, Take 1t
away, my dear-take it away. It's ex-
that no one OF you has ever
learned 70 know 2 good thing from
woIsncss Vnc' Inen wnen . sal9 tney
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