The morning call., 1890-06-02
NOT QUITE MARBLE.

G.,HE chill that .precedes a night in
GH12 spring was rising over the city and
SE5A above the new moon shed it silvery
oAS0' effulgence which had not yet reached
the earth. A single star peeped out, and
then, frightened by the loneliness of the
skies, drew back its head, Some belated
pigeons flew across the vista to their homes,
and one by one sounds unheard by day fell
upon the ear. :.
insects wings, the breath of scented
breezes, the vesper hymn of a tardy locust;
nature was tuning the voices of the night.
From the draped windows OF luxurious
horne in city street comes voice sweeter
by far than any of those whose refrain it
iS-the human vOice-pitched III 9 %omau's
throat. tuned by mothers heart; for il is
lullaby. Chirp on, we crickets; breezes, bear
the notes to heaven; bend thine ear, oh, ma
ture; is it not sweet refrain:
"Sleep, little onep'
Is this not fit accompaniment to the
night?
"Ps rot sleepy, meema!"
The sweet ditty bushes, and in the soft
light of the nursery taper the mother sees
raised to hers defiant little face, while the
chubby form struggles to get free. No l1l-
laby sung by siren mother shall tempt the
baby to dresmland now!
Something in the bright eyes tells the
mother that baby will not be rocked an
other minute, and she allows the little
night-robed figure to regain its feet, and
then rising, the woman watches the baby's
wayward altering.
She was handsome woman. whose clear
outlines were defined against the back
ground as though she had been statue.
She wore an evening dress. as though she
was going to seek some amusement away
from home. Indeed the nurse entered bring
ing word from this lady's husband that
she must remember their engagement for
dinner.
"Tell my husband 1 remember. 1 shall
not be late--and do not come to the nursery
again till l ring"
The door closed and the restless child,
who had almost been awed into drowsiness
by the presence of the nurse, regained its
courage.
"PIay wifi me, meema." said a pleading
voice, and then the cold form relaxed its
statue-like carriage and seemed to blend
with the light that again flooded the
nursery.
The dark, wondrous eyes grew soft, the
beautiful mouth assumed the lullaby eX-
preston, and flushed with the glow of con-
scious motherhood, the woman caught the
upstretched hands and allowed herself to
be led-whither? 10 the corner where
were strewn the playthings.
There the baby rules supreme. Is not
that his horse?- his sheep? Can he not
stand that silly doll upon her head and turn
her skirts the wrong way II he wants toP
them, and smash it into chaos with one
stroke of his ruling hand. What are other
worlds to him, the baby with his toys?
Some miSgivings have seized the mother;
she glances at her 1ower-trimmed gown;
the clock sounds warning chime.
"Down, meemaP
And down "meema" gets, quite filling the
corner, sadly crowding train OF cars and
annihlating the sheep, who, with short,
forced bleaI, loses his. voice. forever.
IL .,f.
would say: "Alas! poor Yorick!" but the
philosophy Of Dabyhood is clothed in
silence.
She is very beautiful, the dark-eyed
woman sitting there upon the floor, her
sheeny dress catching the light and holding
ii captive, to lend its charms to those OF
nature. Surely she is not the woman of
the drawing-room who bears her name.
See how the dmples are taking the place
Of muscular tension; and as the jewels
nestle to the softened form, their charms
have no power over the baby now. lie
looks into his mothers face, and trampling
upon the silken gown that so often checks
his demonstrations, the child clasps close
the woman's neck:
"Meema. 700 is so pity"
And the woman bushes at the compli-
ment Those eyes that out in the world
look out at flattering lips in cool politeness
are now cast down before the baby's gaze;
those lisping tones silence the wonted
repartee, and catching up the clinging
child the woman bruises the tender flesh
against her jeweled bosom.
| AT last she yields to the struggles for an
! other look, and now her beauty is enhanced
| by the soft locks of hair that. like the baby,
| have succeeded in getting loose, and all un-
| needed play about her neck and cheek, as
| though intoxicated with the unwonted free
| dom.
"Meema loves her boy" murmurs the
mother, with the blush of a maiden avowing
| her love to n tender wooer. Can this be
| she who daily accepts love AS her due-she
| confess maternal thralldom?
| ALL but she is in the nursery now, a
! captive in baby's kingdom. She must con-
| TESS, or
| "Baby lips will laugh her down."
| "Meema, speak stowy.'
And the reckless child sinks down In