The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, 1881-08-23
ONLY a FEW WORDS.

MIR. James Winkleman shut the door
with bang rs he left the house, and
moved down the street in the direction
of his Office with quick and firm step,
and the air of man slightly disturbed
in mind.
CEILINGS arc getting better fast, " said
he, with n touch of irony in his voice, rs
he almost flung himself into his leather
cushioned chair. 'It's rather hard when
n man has to pick his words in his own
house rs carefully as if he wcro picking
diamonds, and tread as softly rs if he
were stepping OH eggs. don't like it.
Mary gets weaker and more foolish
every day, and puts breadth of mean
ing on my words that I never intended
them to have I've not been used to this
coming over Of sentences and picking
out of all doubtful expressions ere ven
turing to speak, and I'm too old to be-
gin now. Mary took mo for what lam,
and sho must make the most of her bar
gain. I'm past the age for learning new
tricks"
With these and many other justifying
sentences, did Mr.. Winkleman seek to
obtain q feeling of self-approval. But,
for all this, he could not shut out the
image of a fearful face, nor get rid of an
annoying conviction that he had acted
thoughtlessly, to say the least of it, in
speaking to his wife rs he had done.
But what was all this trouble about :?
Clouds were in the sky that bent over
the home of Mr.. Winkleman, and it is
plain that Mr.. Winkleman himself had
his own share in the work of producing
these clouds. Only q few unguatded
words had been spoken. Only words |!
And was that all?
Words are little things, but they some
times strike hard. We WELD them SO
easily that we are apt to forget their
hidden power. Fifty spoken, they fall
like the sunshine, the dew and the fer
tilizing. rain; but when unfitly, like the
FROST the hail and the desolating temp
est. Some men speak rs they feel or
think, without calculating the force Of
what they say;and then seem very much
surprised if any one is hurt or offended.
TO this class belonged Mr.. Winklcman.
His wife was Il loving, sincere woman, Of
quick feelings. Words to her were in
deed realities. They never fell upon her
ear rs idle sounds. How often was her
poor heart bruised with them
On this particular morning, Mrs.
Winkleman, whose health was feeble,
found herself, found herself in a weak,
nervous state. It was only by an effort
that she could rise above the morbid IL
ritability that afflicted her. Earnestly
did she strive to reprcss the disturbed
beatings of her heart, but she strove i'll
vain. And it seemed to her as it often
does in such cases, that everything went
wrong. The children were fretful, the
cook dilntory and cross and Mr.. Winklc-
man impatient, because snntlry little
matters pertaining to his wardrobe were
not just to his mind
"Eight O'Clock, and no breakfast yet" :"
said Mr.. Winlsleman, rs no drew out his
watch, on completing his own toilet.
Mrs. Winkleman was in the act Of dress
ing the last of the five children, all of
whom had passed under her hands.
Each had been captious, cross or unrlly,
sorely trying the mothers patience.
Twice had she been in the kitchen, to
SEQ how breakfast was progressing, and
TO enjoin the careful preparation of n
favorite dish with which SHE. had pro-
posed to surprise her husband.
'It will be ready in fow minutes"
said Mrs. Winklcman. ""lhe fire hasn't
burned freely this morning"
eff it isn't one thing, it is another" {"
growled the husband. "I'm getting tired
of this irrcgularity, There'd soon be no
breakfast to get, if were tlways behind
ime in business matters"
Mrs. Winklcman bent lower over the
child she was dressing, to conceal the
expression of her face. What sharp
pain now throbbcd through her temples
Mr.. Winkleman began to pace the floor
mpatiently, little imagining that every
airing football was blow on the sensi-
ve aching brain of his wife.
'Too bad too bad |" he had just
aculated when the bell rang. ?.
"At last" he mutsered, and strobe