Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1882-03-08

! tiers. Ihey re rich enough to have as
much iewelry of their own as they want;
and the rubies I must keep for Spencer
| Paulett's wife, when he gets one.
"Why, that's the end of my list, ex-
cepting Cecilia, and there Olivia, Maria,
Grace, the little boys and the baby-all
come since [ made it out. Well, dare
say [ can find some remembrance of their
old auntie for each-not that they'll ever
remember me. Cecil must have nv
wo1kbox. She has my pretty taste in
needle work, with complacent glance
at the patchwork and tentstitch in which
the gold threads in Ruth's gleanings and
Rebecca's earrings still family glimmer-
eO. The new crewel-work isn't SO bad.
could have taught her something if I
hadn't been going away. Parker!'
Parker, a moving heap of brocades and
furs, gave faint, inarticulate reply.
"My workbox!"
Parker hurried off and returned with a
queer little Chinese box with an inlaid
landscape, pagoda with two Celestials
walking in the skies above it on tine lid.
"You're dreaming, Parker! When
did you fndthis? I've not seen it these
ten years!'
Parker scurried away like frightened
rabbit, to return this time with a magni-
ticent article-ebony and gold without,
quilted satin, pearl and yet more gold
within. A turquOise-studded thimble-
crystal smelling bottle, in case the fair
worker should collapse under her ardu-
GUS labors-a pearl-framed mirror with
which she might refresh herself by occa-
slonal glances-curious implements ap-
pa1ently constructed to support the
largest possible amount of gold-chasing,
without point that would pierce or
blade that would cut among them; re-
ceptable for work, satin-lined, padded,
perfumed and empty, except for a half
made baby soap, with the rusty needle
still sticking in it. :.
"WhO was there to work for when he
was gone ?" said the poor old lady, look
ing at the morsel Of discolored cambria
"What had [ left in the world to care
for then? What have [ now, for that
matter? ?"
She began with nervous impotence to
open and close some of the cases almost
at random. "I would have put them
away forever, long, long ago, and been
faithful nurse to my husband, if he
would have let me, all through those
y
ne never loved me well enough to wish
for me-he cared more for his old house
| keeper. My lady is young, and should
have her pleasure, [ heard her say once.
He had married me for nay good looks,
and was not to be defrauded of his bar
gain, and [ must dress and visit and
entertain In Our large, dull, and splen-
did house-weary, oh SO weary of it
oil Ia &c L
and gave me all he promised when he
asked me to marry him. Much good it
was to me: Father and mother dead
Sister Sophia married and gone-no one
left to admire my splendor Or profit by
began noiselessly to make up the fire
and slippers as a gentle reminder of bed
time. "Ah it's late, Parker. Well,
I've finished. No; go and finish your
to do with this ?" This was the little
sham Chinese box-a sadly battered and
shabby little thing. The pink sarcenet
lining was frayed and gohe, disclosing the
bare wood and cottonwood foundation.
In the compartments were odds and
ends of miscellaneous rubbish. The
pocket in the lid bulged out with yellow
scraps of paper, old-fashioned patterns
for marking letters tied with faded rib
bons, scraps from newspapers. There
were curiously cut silk winders of card
board with silk of dim and long forgot
ten tints wound in fancy patterns, a
half-made hair chair, string of amber
beads; pervading all faint, sweet smell
of roses.
GO shou Id like to have it put in my
coffin, my dear old box No one will
care for it, and cannot have it thrown
away, or kept just to please the children.
l had better look it over and burn all
these poor little treasures" The yellow
papers dropped one by one steadily into
the fire old valentines on huge square
sheets of colored paper, wonderfully en-
bossed and sealed with tender notices in
tinted wax, school friends epistles
crossed and recrossed in colored inks
One she kept to the last. "Cornelia
Clarke, what dear sweet creature she
was Dead and gone this many a year.
We were neighbors, and [ used to go
with her to dancing parties to practice
the new steps. Why here are the very
garnet clasps loaned her the night she
came in early to put up my hair in the
new giraffe bows. We both wanted to
look well that night, remember. How
we ioked one another about Mrs. Low
der's fine London cousins who were to
be at her house for the party, and [
would put on my old purple satinette
gown, just to show how little I cared for
any one noticing me. q knewver well
how it became me, thought After all,
Mr.. Paulett, the rich London merchant,
didn't come, only the sailor cousin,
Plug Lowder. He had been in the
Levant, and we were all wild about the
east and my Lord Byron's new poem
just then, and expected something so
romantio-a hero with big black beard,
and stories of corsairs and yelled beau
ties of the harem, and numbering des-
pots of pashas.
1t was disappointment to find only
a big, blue-eyed north countryman, so
shy and awkward that the girls all
| turnc n I'M their noses at him for mart