The Iowa plain dealer. [volume] (New Oregon, Howard County, Iowa) 1867-1895, 1890-07-24
Uet,v could rot helm laughing

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Tell me some Of the glory and the
bosh. This is beautiful confessional.
Hester: wish we had nothing 10 do for
week but to lie on the grass, and look
1T the blue sky through applc-blos-
sons"
Amen" breathed her companion
softly, and for awhile they were so
quiet that the robins. nesting upon the
other side of the tree, began to
whisper together.
''l,osh and my poetry dreams are syn
onyms," resumed Hester. her voice curl
ously mellowed from its accustomed
sharpness. ''Othcr people may say as
much of theirs. ! knote it OF mine.
There's the difference. All the same
they are as sweet as the poisoned honey
We were reading about the other day.
which the bees made from poppy-ficlds.
And while | suck 1t. | forget. My ro-
nance has no more foundation than the
story of the Prince and the Little White
Cat. Mine is broken backed cat, but
she comes straight in my dreams after
her head is cut off. You don't sup
pose she minded Mat She must have
been SO impatient when the Prince hes
itatcd that she was tempted to grab his
sword and saw through her own neck.
You see she recollcctcd what she had
been. The woman's soul was coopcd up
in tho cats skin. And was eight years
old when the evil spell was laid upon
me-
The tears in Hetty's throat hindered
response. Never until this instant, with
all her love for her dependent charge,
her knowledge of her sufferings, and
the infinite pity these engcndercd. had
the deprivations Hester's afIliction in
volved seemed SO horribly, SO afro
ciously cruel. The listeners nails dug
burrows in her palms, she set her
teeth, and looking up to the unfecling
smile of tho deaf and dumb heavens, she
| said something in her heart that would
have left faint hope of her eternal veal
in tho orthodox mind Of her brother-in-
law.
Hester was speaking again.
Every painter has his models. /
have had mine. | dress each one up
and work the wires to make him or her
go through the motions-my motions.
mind you! not theirs, poor puppets.
When the dress gets shabby. or the
limbs rickety, | throw them upon the
rubbish heap, and look out for an
other.
II got new one last Thursday. Tie
man who jumped over me in the station.
| and afterward carried me into the res
tanrant lsuch strong, steady arms as he
hada is real hero. O, am building
| noble castle to put him in. He lives
near here. for he passes the house three
times day. His eyes have smile in
| them. and his mustache droops Just
like Charles the First's, and he walks
with spring as if he were SO full of life
he longcd to leap or fly, and his voice
has ring and resonance like an organ.
The pretty girl that called him Mark
to-day, is his sister,
why not his wife?''
Wife! Don't you suppose know the
CO of married man, even on the
street? lie hasn't the first symptom of
tho craft. lie doesn't swagger, and he
| doesn't stink. A husband does one or
the other
Hetty laughed out merrily. There
was sense Of relief in Testers return
to the sarcastic railleIy habitual to
her, which made her mirth the hearticr.
| A man crossing the lower slope Of tho
orchard heard the bubbling peal, and
looked in the direction of the big tree.
So did his attendant, huge st. Ber-
nard dog. He tore up the activity