The evening world., 1890-07-07
HER FIRST GREAT SORROW.
Mrs. Bolivar Pyke Gr;eved Ere
the Honeymoon Waned,
But Sunshine Came and Chased
Away the Clouds.

Mr.. and Mrs. Bolivar PIXIE had been
married about SIX weeks, and were still
oppressiyely happy, says the Chicago
Tribune. Not n ripple of discord had
stirred the frog. pond Of their domestic
harmony. and their life had run as
smoothly and unobstructedly asa Chicago
baseball clubs progress down the tobog-
gan slide.
II there wa anything that could have
mude Bolivar happy he didn't know what
it was, unless, possibly, it was 10 hear
that his tough, leathory and graspipg old
uncle in California had gone to the good
world; while the addition of forty more
cupboards and closets to the house could
hardly have added TO the felicity of his
young VIE.
This may sound like exageerHtion, but
you havo positively no idea how un.
reasonable and ab,urdly happy these two
young persons were.
1t was al evening in May-an ordinary
evening in May, 1890. and the rain hadn't
stopped. 1t was falling us it fell in the
seventeenth day Of the second month of
the GOOth year of the life of one NOAH,
and in sheer despair the signal service
man had begun 20 predict wet weather.
"Bucnavista." said Bolivar, looking
abstractcdly about the room, IF It
wouldn't be asking too great a iavor"-
What Is 1t dear! :" asked Mis-. Pykc,
tendcrly.
Piense try the other knee for awhile.
This one is getting tired
You have never said anything like
Tint before, Bolivar" she protested, re.
p~roachfully. Perhaps I'd better go and
Sit on a chair"
Now, don't get hufy, darling. You
don't look 80 pretty when you frown."
u am not frowning. Bolivar"
You certainly are. Buenavista."
Then | don't look pretty" she ex-
claimed, bouncing up and seating herself
ten feet away. IAN right. MIR. Pyke!
ryou-,you're getting tired of me.
~l-l-wish / was"
Now, look here. B%uenavista. don't be
foolish; There's nothing to quarrel
about"
Pm not quarrelliug, sir I'm not
going TO quarrel. either. If there's any
thing of that kind done You will be the
II who does it, Mr.. Pyke."
!" am glad to hear 1t, my dear"
You needn't call me your dear. 1 nm
IN utu W Sou IL llOIc
Il thought you said you were not
gong to quarrel"
ibid, sir. and / am not. In spite OF
your conduct, Mr.. Pyke, | nm still your
LOVING wife"
Then, dearest"-
No, sir, l un not your dearest"
Well. B~uennyista, then-it YOU prefer
tiff you are still my loving wife. won't
you please sing something"
What for! Are you afraid I'll try to
sit IN your knee again. You needn't -
No, 10, Buenayista, | thought it
might clear up the atmosphere of this
room a little. That's all.
With the aspecto I II martyr going cheer
fully to the stake Mrs. Pyke went to the
piano and sat down before it.
What shall l sing Z" she asked
meekly.
Perhaps HIN perhaps it would
make things seem more cheerful if YOU
should tackle Home, Sweet Home.'H
Mrs. Pyke fixed her eyes ON a spot near
exactly match aud walled out the touch
mid ple-a-a-sures and ~pa-a.alaces
tho-o-ugh"-I know we'll enough MIR.
Iyke, you have only asked me 10 sing
this TO make me appear ridiculous, but l
am going TO do tive may ro-o-o-am.
BE It e.e-eve-e-er SO II think any mar
~ NllSo hlhhS w WIZ tut UDJeCI OF
ridicule never, never cared anything for
her" hu-u-u-mble there's nO-o-o
place like - have always done
everything l could to make home
pl-pl, pleasant, ana you-you know it
'ho-o-ome. A clia-a-arm from the ski. lies
seems to --seems like the ghastliest
mockery in the world, but YOU would
have it 'ha-a-llo-o-ow us the.e-ere.
Which se-e-eek through the w-o-o.or.d is
ne'er me-e-et with elsewhe-e-ere.
Hu-u-o-o-onle, ho-ome. sw'- I'll
sIng it through if it k-k.kills me-swe.e-
Get. swe-e-eet home. There's no place
hke'-Gin't you ashamed of yourself, Boil
WAR Pyke, TO bit there pretending you
care nothing about our home IL more.
or me either y-'ho.o.me. There's moo
90 place like'-B-B-Bolivar. dear, | can't!
Yes, | will i will-'hu-o-o-ome!'"
As her quavering voice sounded the last
word of the SOM a manly voice Joined in
with "a deep bass, her trembling little fin
gers were gathered in q close grasp. her
head sank on Bolivar's shoulder, and
But what business has anv outside bar
barian TO be intruding? Let uE retire.