The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1889-04-13
four of whom she counted among her

But with all this it must be owned,
to Clementine's credit, she was not
vain or arrogant: her head was too
much in the clouds for these things
to turn it. She had long resolved
that love alone should compel her to
marry; reason was a cold and sordid
guide, ard perish the thought OF
money! 1t takes years and pain and
the pangs of poverty to teach a
woman of this sort that money is at
least a good thing to have in the
house, and no more to be despised
than any other means of comfort
and health. Tina never paused to
consider how hopeless and helpless
she would be without her fathers
liberal hand and goodly purse, and
being to a certain extent vitality
right and honest in her theory, she
carried it to stern heights, and made
it dominant in her dreams. intending
with all her simple soul to marry
only the man she should love sud-
denly and Enthusiastically, and hop
ing almost to prayer that the COM
ing god might be some impecunious
poet, or a great politician, poor be-
cause of his incorruptible honesty!
Poor Tinal as if poets and politicians
both were not the most undesirable
of their sex as husbands! or as if she
were fitted to fill the heart or light
the hearth OF any poor man-she,
who knew no more how to broil a
steak, boil potato, or make loaf
of bread than to circulate the orbit
OF a comet or square the circle!
But, as time went on, Tina found,
to her own disgust, that she did not
fall in love with any body. Not one
youth from the studious crowd nor
one from behind any counter really
stirred her sleeping heart. She want
ed dreadfully to fall in love, but there
seemed always to be some obstacle
on the edge ofthat pleasant precipiee.
| One youth smoked; she could not
abide that. Another wore a plaid
velvet vest-ugh! Still another had
red hair and weak eyes; of course he
was insuferable. But time would
fail me to recount the failings of
these young men. Few of them ar
rived so far as to offer themselves, for
as soon as the "object" perceived
they were really, to use their own
phrase, "spooney" about her, she
was filed with unconcealable dis
gustfor the poorcreatures, and, with
the charming frankness of dream
ing girl, took no pains whatever to
conceal it. Men are not always blind,
even in love, and the perceptive share
of Tina's lovers slid back quietly in
to their own places. A few ofthe OBJ
tuser sort went "on to glory or the
grave" and were received with open
astonishment, and rejected with
equally open Indifference. Some
times she shed few tears when a
young man became very wretched,
and tore his hair little, or limited
darkly at suicide; sometimes she re-
preached herself in her secret heart
for blighting SO many young and ar
dent natures; but, on the whole, she
was tolerably comfortable about it,
as she ought to have been, for even
the most detected adorer never
drowned himself or plunged into
reckless dissipation on her account,
and some were actually known in
after years to speak of her as chat
pretty little goose I used to know at
Canterbury" Men are so perfidious!
1t was Clementine's custom every
year to make visit to her grand
father Hyde in Coventry. She gen.
orally chose the season of college va
cation in summer to do this duty, as
Canterbury was really dull then, and
Coventry as pleasant as could be.
Grandfather Hyde's great old-fash-
Toned house was spotless and speck-
less all the year, but it might be cold
in winter; in July and August it was
cool and sweet and airy, Aunt Nabby,
Squire Hyde's sister, was a mighty
housekeeper; and when you had eaten
her bread and butter and cottage
cheese and sponge cake, you might
laugh at Soyer and Ude and Blot,
and smile with scorn at the rapier-
skewered shadow of Vatel, who died
for want of turbot. He would have
died of envy had he tasted Aunt Nab
by's chicken pot-pie. To make the
dainty bits of fowl so savory, the
gravy so rich and ticklesome t. the
palate, the crust so light, so golden
brown, so flaky and unsodden, all in
the homely circumference of an iron
pot, this required genius. Nobody
in Coventry could make such pot
pie. Clementine did not want to;
well as she liked it, no cumulative fury
was kindled in her breast. She en-
joyed her food unusually at grand
pas, but she laid it to the air of the
hills; this Disguised Aunt Nabby, for
she was prouder of her cook
ing than a poet of his rhymes,
and knew very well that
Coventry was scarce two hundred feet
higher above sea level than Canter-
bury itself, though the latter lay in a
fich alluvial valley, and Coventry on
a sandy plain. But, withal, Aunt
Nabby loved the pretty, pale girl in
her own curt and abrupt fashion.
She fed her with all sorts of dainty
cakes, and let her liein bed mornings
as long as she liked, though with |
much grumbling and growing below
stairs about the degeneracy of mod
ern women.
Coventry was very little town.
Its single wide street had on either |
side large old-fashioned houses that
had descended from generation to |
generation; and being built when la
Dor and timber were cheap and build |
ers honest, thegoodly beams endured
well, and the hereditary owners took
q certain pride in keeping them in re-
pair.
There were old people in most OF
them now. The youthful fiocks were
to other pastures-the girls
married abroad, the young men pur-
suing their own ends in the distant
West or the great cities. Yet every
year the children-some of them-re-
turned to the nest. The windows of
dark spare rooms were opened wide
10 the sun and air, the parlor revive
id it's hospitalities, the chickens and