Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1884-01-05

| SdIueuS
81 was quite Young girl when Dunn
ME saw me first" said she By the way,
have mentioned that she was aSwede and
he German {? 81 had led a quiet life
with my dear parents, always working very
hard to make the most OF the lessons they
could give IRE, for they were very poor.
1t was great thing when l was allowed
to have twelve English lessons. Ach !
how did work 1 thought of nothing
but English, when l walked, when l
ate, when l dressed myself And
how glad l am now for so many OF my
good friends all over the world have been
English. My singing-that went on al:
ways. And one day, Dummie, who had
come to Sweden for visit in the summer,
heard me sing; and he said to the friend
who was with him, That is my wife ).
And how happy we were when we were
married and went home to settle IN Dres-
den, where his dear mother and all his re-
lations live But we had not been in our
little house three months when Dummie
was taken i'll with the smallpox. On, but
it was terrible He was SO Ill. l nuTsed
him very carefully but as he was getting
better little cold settled Oh his lungs.
That is now eight years ago, and ne has
been an invalid ever since. With care ne
may live years and years but any day
chill may take him from me, who love him
so dearly. Every summer we go home to
little apartment in Dresden, and every
autumn when the leaves begin to fall we
come south like the swallows sometimes
to Algiers, sometimes to Madeira, some
times to Nice-wherever Dummie fancies
- And you, l asked, chow do you like
such wandering life ?"
ooh, for myself, there nothing should
! like so much as to live quietly In one place
with Dummie and to have kind friends
about u.s. should love to have house OF
| my own and l would take such pride in
| having everything so neat and nice | am
a regular old housewife at heart. But that |
can never be. All | think of is how to |
keep nv dear husband with me 4; and it is |
ALWAYS before me that one day | shall be |
left sl1ne But never let him see that, !
for the doctors say everything must be |
bright for him bright sunshine, change of |
scene, and always bright companion.
And so she always was a bright COM
pauion It was not often that she spoke as
she did to me that afternoon. She was |
generally occupied in amusing Dummie, in |
one way or another. 1t was very funny to |
see them together he made me really !
cross with him, he was so ungrateful but |
one could not help laughing, all the same. |
And l like you when you laugh, he |
remarked to me one day; you make |
nice big eyes. You are not like Mia. !
She screws hers up when she laughs, and |
with her white eyelashes they look such |
ugly little Sits" Which comparison Maia |
did not in the least resent, but looked |
upon it as an excellent joke.
At Easter l had great pleasure. My |
nephew arrived in Cannes to spend |
month of his leave with me was then, |
as now, so proud and fond of him. | don't |
think I have ever seen a handsomer young |
fellow perfectly made, with regular iea-
lures, bright, China blue eyes, and yellow
hair and mustache. His adoring aunt and
godmother took leave of her senses where !
he was concerned. Glad though | was to
have him with me, was much exercised in |
my mind as how to smuse him. Young /
men from crack cavalry regiment were
rare in that manless region, and so were
their pet occupations, too. Little eXcur-
sions to Nice and in among the Alps Mari
times seemed very small eXcltements to
offer Charlie; and l did not urge him to
frequent Mount Carlo, having an old maids
horror of gambling. But, to my intense
delight, the dear boy took most kindly to
all my little ways of passing the time he
declared that the mere transition from biz
ter east winds and frosts-for Easter fell
early that year-to blue sky and steady
sunshine made existence a pleasure; that
my little donkey trips among the pine-cla5
hills where the joliest picnics at which he
had ever assisted, and that the quiet even
ings in my comfortable salon, to which my
friends were welcome, were all that he
cared for after day spent in the open air.
I had frightful mIsgIvings, when he had
been with me a few days, about a young
Dutch Countess staying with her mother
in the hotel. She was very handsome
girl and most amusing. She and Charlie
struck up a desperate Irritation from the
moment they set eyes upon one another. |
My iiTst thought was one Of delight. She
will help me to make Clarhe's visit q
pleasant one, l said to myself, and ac-
cordingly invited Mile. Y an Baerle to join
our little party on all occasions. But /
soon repented me of my rashness. The
fair Countess was clever and most accom-
I,shed a perfect linguist like all her
nation, and JJlly, good-tampered girl
but her fastness, and her truly awful
knowledge Of the wickedness OF the wicked
world and her mad love OF excitement at
any cost l shuddered as | thought what
might be the consequence OF my careless
ness, and pictured my sisters distress if
such a daughter-in. law were presented to
her. Tnen l tried my best to drop her out
of our lans ; but with no success, l had
been too gushing at first to be able to dis
engage mysel: all at once.
My dear Mrs. Wiener however, con-
soled me.
1T is nothing, she said. 1T is much
too noisy a Irritation to be serious. Why,
Yesterday evening he ran all along the cor
ridor with her in his arms, because she
said she did not believe he could lift her.
They are two great romps, and if your
nephew were really in love he would be
more serious.
Il don't know, I sighed, despondingly.
"Charlie Is never very serious about any
thing. Just look at them now.
Tney made pretty, II to me provok-
ing, picture. We had been pjcnic-making
on the Croix des Gardes, and now, after
luncheon, were sitting about on the big
stones under the pines, luxuristing in tine
air and magnificent view. Mademoiselle
Van Baerle ana Charlie were foreground
worthy Of the landscape behind them.
1 ltN NGiG N-N AILLALA h-tA- a LullIu "a
violets that she had been wearing at her
neck eli the morning. He, half kneeling,
half sitting on a bowlder of rock at the
edge OF tle slope, was stretching up his
hand for them she, standing above, was
holding them over his head.
Suddenly the rock against which he was
leaning gave way, and poor Charlie turned |
a comp lste somersault before my startled
eyes.
81 No bones broken, he laughed as he
picked himse up but ms foot mad had
nasty wrench, and he had to endure all the
unpleasant consequences OF a sprained
ankle,
think it was only then that realized /
Mrs. WciLer's wonderful! tsct and sweet |
ness, much as had liked her before. She |
was so good to my poor boy. o: course,
one may say that II does lot require much /
-. ...tf s,,r,tina m no kind tn a uDO1. |