Helena weekly herald. [volume] (Helena, Mont.) 1867-1900, 1888-06-07


There lives the blue forget-me-not:
Where violet and asphodel
Their fragrance and their beauty tell;
And where on every bench is found
young man with his arm around
hitching post? Forsooth not SO!
I'll never tell if you don't know!
"Ahem," said Dickey with a sinister
sneer as read her the lines.
"Well?'. said l, little tartly.
''Oh, nothing" said she, "only when
hear an old maid talking of young mans
arm being around anything it reminds me,
don't you know, of 1888 trying to get
back into an Eighteenth century almanac"
That was unkind of Dickey, but she
would not have said it if had not hidden
her rouge box this morning, and she had
to come down to breakfast looking like
the pale of civilization.
Speaking of paint, am reminded of two
things, the first of which is a little story.
Long time ago was among the hills of
eastern Kentucky, and one of the adiuncts
OF my environment in that primitive Sec
ton was country store. Nature was, of
course, largely in the ascendant among
those mountain Businesses. and / was re-
joicing in the thought that here at last l
might find surcease from the shams of So
ciety. In the women was particularly
interested, and their old fashioned clothes
and their natural manners quite charmed
me. One day was in this store when a
brawny. buxom, freckled lass in bright
green sunbonnet and a yellow calico dress
came in. and with a smile for the clerk
and questioning female look for me, as
one woman always gives another whose
presence she can't quite account for, she
drew confdingly near the young man
"Have you any lady paint?" she in
quired.
ANY what?" be said, startled out of his
self possession.
ANY lady paint, said," repeated the
girl.
u don't think we have, " he replied, and
began to look around his shelves in order
to recover his wits.
In a minute or SO, with a whisper from
me, he had them back again, and in
another minute he had fshed out box Of
pink powder, covered with dust and cob
webs, a prize long wanting claimant, and
handed 1t to her.
rubbed little on her cheeks with her
inger. and went away a glittering comh-
nation OF trinity of primary colors.
That was away out in the hills where |
nature reigns. Is it surprising, then,
hat In Washington, where art is supreme. |
women should worship at the shrine of |
he primal goddess less than does her |
sister of the temple?
In the words of the poet. mot hardly"
md l am surprised sometimes, painfully
surprised, at the hand painted maidens I
meet, and matrons, too, more's the pity.
The average girl one meets in Washing
on is pretty enough without the adven-
ftious aid of arti6ce, but she doesn't seem
o think so, and she doctors her complex
on good deal more than she doctors the
cal cause OF her complexion's need of q
octor. Nor does she do 1t artistically,
hough she may think she does, for have
card numerous men commenting upon
be "daubs" they have seen in society,
nd one adventurous young fellow, with
erve and money, suggested to me the
rganization of "school of natural art"
he called it, whose object would be the
etter education of young women in ex-
erior decoration
Now amt that dainty dish to set be-
,re the king?
Another young fellow offered to bet q
cry pretty girl a dozen pair of gloves
nat she had her complexion made to order
the druggists, and the girl was afraid
put it to the test. Yet that same girl
oes about as pink checked as ever, and
,ceiTes nobody but herself. have seen
omen at their own homes and in the
giddy whirl" who were old enough to be
'andmothers, and some of them were,
hose cheeks were as red as the blood Of
'althy youth, and whose shoulders were
alabaster, yet the entire superstructure
uld have been wiped off with damp
onge. leaving foundations of-welf,
aving foundations of which the least
id the soonest mended. With such
others what other daughters could we
pectf r
But enough of this. I'm glad I'm not .
IN, or if were, that have arrived ct
age when my common sense and my
ase Of sight and perception are in :
uipoise. -. -f.5-4s.-.
q there is any bject in human life
lich commands my sincerest sympathy
re than another, it is a bachelor at the di
~ ! may quote the words Of .
chelor Who has since been redeemed
'innocuous desuetude." He is the ri
y graveyard Of dead hopes, surrounded W
the weeping willows Of unsatisfed
gings. living monument to undivided th
row and unshared joys, and / can't gi
p but feel e little lively at seeing his
elipese. -.
1ckey and I were strolling along Four ri,
nth street the other evening, Just at is
t hour when the day is done, and ",