The Arkansaw traveler., 1884-05-31
SHE HAD BEEN THERE.
Ezrl Marble i, e,,lo,,, ,s..

Asoae, ID oaiiou's Magaxine-
 70, mother am 50 unhappy.,
 So exclaimed sweet Mercy Eudicott. one serene Monday evening, as the ceru- lean skies began to take on a moduIsfed otackness. and the smell of soapsuds came less gushingiy up the stairs from the cellar kitchen.
 It was in Boston, and on the Back Bay. which is illuminated with the sun- set rays after the rest of Boston is Jeff in oarkness, and which portion ofthe Edin- burgh of America is the only place there Tn where good square af,ergiow is ever seen.
 The afterglow was subs;ding. and so vas the happiness of Mercy Endicost.
 Mercys was plastic nature, but the tendrils of her disposition could give the most energetic ivy several points. and then take the pink ribbon prize. She lived in the fashionable quarter of Boston where the green bays of laurel were con- sidered ot no particular value unless they were Black Bays Out~ardly she vas a child of new Boston with it's culture and its pretensior 1: but inwardly she vas a seion of old Boston, with it's simplicity and Its ,wo-hundred-year-old traditions.
 ., mother. am so unhappy,- she repeated, accompanying the remark with a sad and sorro~ful moan; but she was conservative. ard did not dare to venture on a happy and cheerful moan.
 What IS il, my daughter P exclaimed the mother. Is i, because young Frz augustus did not come las, nights know what Monday IS when a Sunday night lover comes not"
 ' IL is not that mother
 Are you sure. Love is deceitful.-
 am sure. mother. Fnz Augustus might pacify my lips with his sweet but ,oy kisses, but he could no, remedy the 'aglng discontent here" accompanyinr ne remark with a significant motion owards her brest with her lewel-studded iand. "l fear that can trace the rouble farther back than Sunday even ng.'
 = Why, my dear child, did you really sant matinee tickets on Saturday to the 'pera so badly =
 ., that was small matter, mother. Tease don't mention 1t. Besides il was lot so far back as that
 What was ii, my dear: On, please ell me. Farther back than Sunday .vening. and not SO far back as Saturday Itternoon What can ii be ?-
 Q, mother. you will no, laugh at ne:-
 :" No, child"
 :. Ncr think am degenerating:,
 No. Speak
 :. Nor think am coarse and unlady. Ike =
 Certainly not. How could you be, Am not your mother ?''
 Ass. But l have father"
 You have
 And nigh, inherit from him certain raiis ot character that might take taint -om the rude early days that your own ~eet and benehcent spiri, failed to urify ere !, became part of my na- lre.s
 "lt IS hardly probable. Mine is | 'rong nature, and its will is paramount, O what could your par amount to ?,
 For iive minutes strict silence reigned e;seen mother and daughter. Neither miled, and. more singular still, neither 'ept. Then the mother remembered nat she had not heard the cause of her aaghters agony, and she again be- eecbed
 What is it that disturbs the springs f your life, and makes them squeak
 = IL IS physical, mother, net mental"
 The mother thought and pondered a ioment, then ventured:
 " IL IS not consumption ?"
 .uite the reverse, mother may as ell confess it, though am covered with name at my temerity. had no beans 'r breakfast Sunday morning, and the oid in my life is terrible am true augk,er of old Boston, and life is no, orth living withou, its regular Sunday lorning brown bread and beans.
 Moral-lt IS wise child that knows hats the matter with it.