The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1880-04-30

And love should still be the lord o. a..
Helen Aubrey sat in her little parlor,
listlessly watching the changing shad-
ows that the fire cast In the twilight up
on the fiower-papered walls. All was
neat and well-arranged in that model
"dove's nest" the pet name bestowed by
her young husband on that center OF his
hearts happiness-his humble, comfort
able home.
Oh: that inimitable word "comfort y
what countless images OF love and rest,
of fireside coziness, of well-aired slip
pers, OF easy chairs, tender smiles, tea
and mullins, books and leisure-are sug-
gested by that genial word to the weary
wrestlers with the anxieties and tolls OF
life. What dark, dull city desks are
tinged by those golden syllables with a
sunbeam from fairy land what whirling
wheels are attuned to celestial harmon
les +; what rough, rude shapes of labor S
countless elements are dignified and hal
lowed by the loving thought that the
hardened hands and toil-dewed faces
work only through their ministry to gain
comfort " for the loved ones, and IN
sure the halcyon bliss of household
joys
And Helen's little parlor was truly
comfortable. 1t had no piano, to be
sure, but by her side, gay with .;nowy
drapery and azure ribbons, stood the
prettiest little wicker-work basket that
ever contained earth's divinest treasure
IA sleeping baby The simple classic
shaped lamp was not yet lighted, but the
bright freight shone on the glittering
steel guardians, the soft crimson hearth
rug, the gay-hued carpet, and the flower
gal'lands on the wall, with warm and
ruddy glow, and the bloom on Helen S
delicate cheek deepened into the tint of
sunny peach as she sat gazing on the
cheerful blaze.
She was very pretty, that fair young
wife, in her modest evening dress; its
soft grey hues relieved by the artless
coGuetry of a delicately embroidered
gli:mpe, and neck-ribbon of rose-color.
A few lilies of the valley, entwined with
airy blonde, Swallowed the rich braids of
her fair hair, forming an approach to that
mysterious. symbol of matronhood-a
cap-but light and graceful enough to
adorn, not disguise, the pretty head as
Stunning it so early.
What happy evening scene awaited
the weary one, plodding through mud
and fog, to enjoy the peace and warmth
cf that doves nest in the suburbs. And
yet Helen Aubrey has no smile upon her
lips; her eyes look vacantly around. or
brighten with disdainful CLEAN. All,
Helen, what demon has disturbed thy
household paradise?
60 Yes, it is certainly as Mrs. Medlicott
says" she murmured, " the room is
very small, and the furniture so humble,
so very questionable, that it would be
impossible to invite any one of taste OF
pretensions to visit us here. In fact, j
could not have pleasant party"
All, Helen, was not thy Christmas
party pleasant? Old friends, kind rela-
lions and old-fashioned fare; roast beef,
plum pudding, green holly and mistle-
toe boughsl How merrily they all
, laughed (the poor old aunt from the
almshouse the heartiest of alD; what in
nocent frolc, what time-hallowed iests,
and olden carols blithely chorused by
happy voices, made the little parlor ring
with gladstone sounds! And now, what
strange sorcery has hushed and dimmed
thy Eden? What hawk has ruflied thy
dove-cote What evil sprite has scattered
thorns and thistles where confding love
slumbered on down and roses? Helen
has acquired new friend, and the whole
happiness of her life has mournfully de-
partedi
"And my Dress" she continued, CTS
so very plain 1 have no delicate laces,
no rich satins, no trinkets; my gowns
sare of questionable colors even that
lavender silk, my wedding gown, which
i once thought SO pretty, is decidedly
dull and faded Mrs. Medlicott was right
in her hint-Charles is certainly stingy.
I know his income is limited, but he
might allow me to look little like the
rest of the world. Mrs. Medlicott's hus-
band is in the same office, and has,
dare say, the same salary; but how
elegantly she dresses-what handsome
house she has. in fashionable street, to,
hot like this humdrum suburban soil
tude. All, / was certainly very foolish
to think only of love in cottage /"
Poor Helen, in her first days of wed
ded happiness, how cheerfully did sh,
enter this little rural bower; arrang,