The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1882-07-14
SIMPLICITY ITSELF.

Miss verona Allison sat py uuo upen
window in her own little snuggery, her
eyes bent upon the letter she held in her
hand. From the expression on her re.
markably expressive face-an expression
that ourled the short upper lip Of
large but well-formed mouth, and
caused naturally turnedup nose to
tuIn up still more-one Watching her
might have been led to think that the
contents OF the letter awakened no
pleasurable feelings-a thought that
would have been confirmed when on
reading the last line our scornful young
woman threw herself back in her much.
beribboned willow rocker, and exclaim-
ed: Simplicity, indeed The mans
an idiot"
"What man ?" asked Miss Phebe,
coming quietly into the room.
"Your friends son, Mother Phebe,
Mr.. Peter Candy. Why, his very name
makes you think at once Of goose-I
mean male goose"
My DEAR" said Miss Phebe, mildly,
as she seated herself in another highly
decorated chair, and folded her hands
in her lap-a sign that she was ready
for long and copaaeHtial cnat-"l see
AZ AOboOA why yOu bhOuiu Cuil tu6 yOuuK
man an idiot. Idiots, to give Webster's
mildest definition OF them, are 'un-
learned, ignorant, or foolish persons
Peter Candy is none OF these. Neither
does he, in my opinion, ut all resemble
q male goose. met him ut his fathers
house last winter, just after his return
from Europe, where he had been for
three years, most of the time in London
and speaking Of male geese reminds me
that he brought with him the loveliest
poodle that I ever beheld-worth for
tune, my dear But that is not what 1
started out to say. Let me see-where
was !? Oh, yes. He had Just returned
from England, and found him good
looking lin poetical way.) we'll educa-
ted, and, as you must have discovered
from the letter gave you to read
never dreaming it would lead to idiots
and ganders, intensely devoted to Beauty
unadorned,' which, as you know, the
poet Thomson says is adorned the
most His mother was my most init
mate friend at .sebGel,, iaHse lbbseiasra.
always tied with tho same cOlored rib.
bon, and our sun bonnets trimmed with
the same colored silk. People laugh at
school friendships. my dear. but they
often outlast those. But that's neither
here nor there. Where wasI? Oh, yes.
We were inseparsble friends, and we
promised each other faithfully-ha having
read great many romances where such
promises had produced the happiest re-
sults-that il we married land we both
certainly expected to do SO. and one q
son and the other daughter, We would
endeavor to bring about marriage
between them when they had attained
suitable age. She married, soon after
she graduated, a man considerably older
than herself, with the decidedly unpo-
etical name OF Peter-a name he in
sisted upon transmitting to his only
son, though hear, my dear, that among
his dearest friends young Peter is known
as Aurelius; but he (the elder Peter)
was wealthy, and Matilda was fond Of
But no matter about that. Where Oh
yes, ! remember she married. A son
was the result. 1 did not marry, and
consequently have no results. But I
found you. my dear"
"a motherless child, fcrsaken by an
unloving father" interrupted Verona
and springipg from her chair, she flung
both arms around Miss Phebe, and
kissed each OF her plump rosy cheeks.
And no real daughter. am sure,'
the elderly lady went on, when Verona
had again seated herself by the window,
could have brought me more happi-
ness and comfort. And now, my dear,
IL you will only make up your mind to
receive this young gentleman in q nice
and friendly manner, perhaps you may
find him very agreeable person, and
he may find in you the realization Of his
dreams. And if you should fall in love
with each other"
'But, oh. Mother Phebe, !" interrupted
Verona again, "in spite of all you say,
can't help thinking he must be such
such a-idioti just listen" And
the proceeded to read from the letter,
in drawling, affected manner: 81,
like my glorious teacher Oscar Wilde.
love Nature, and in loving Nature, love
Beauty unadorned, Beauty pure and
simple. 1 would have the maiden of
my choice owe naught to Art. II she
wear flowers, let them be the blossoms
OF the fields and meadows rather than
the costliest OF artificial blooms and
II some slight blemish mar her lowell
ness, let her not seek to conceal il by
rouge or powder, or any other lie, but
by the sunshine OF her smiles so dazzle
the beholder that no will see il not. As
for her dress, better in my eyes is the
plainest homemade gowns than the
richest robes Of silk and satin disflQured
by all the paraphernalia OF the mantua.
maker. All. could l but find such a
maiden Now Mother Phebe, the idea
OF writing such stuff for il is stuff-to
you But OF course he thought I would
see il, and being truly rural young
woman, would be much impressed
thereby"
"My dear. you are severe" began
Miss Phebe.
"There. l knew it. You've caught
the speaking poetically."
II didn't mean to, / assure you, nv
dear, though in my youth l wrote and
published a number Of verses that were
But DO matter. You will behsye
nicely to Petera Promise me you will,
II will do more. I'll try to be all he
would have the maiden OF his choioe.'
tentY'
'I'll be content" And Miss Phebs
rose to go, as somebody near by whis-
tied loud and clear. "Whats that 2"
"The hrst'bar OF Charlie il NV Dar.
ling replied the girl, mischievously;
and she proceeded to whistle the SEQ.
l..