Evening capital. (Annapolis, Md.) 1884-1910, 1890-06-30
THE BLUE BUTTERFLY.

Backward, turn backward, oh Time,
in thy flight" gaily sang Marcus Offiey.
"The wiseacres say that that is an impos-
sibility; but have this day proved them
all wrong. The last 10 years of my life
are nothing but dream, and / am a
racketing schoolboy again, with my bag
of books slung over my shoulder and a
fish line hid away in my pocket There's
the very closet Aunt Zillah used to lock
me up in when she caught me stealing
blackberry jam-the same window, with
the same mended pane of glass in the
left-hand corner, under which listened
nights when the bachelor school teacher
used to come andsee her, and reproduced
him at the breakfast table next morning,
to Gran ther Biggins's great delight! New
York is the fgment of nights sleep. /
haven't grown day older-and-"
"Its shame, cried Rebecca, gnash-
ing her small white teeth together.
you've had every chance, and I've just
stood still. You've worked your way up
in that great newspaper Office, and I've
done housework and been to weekly sing
ing school! Why is it that man has
so much better opportunities than a
woman, I'd like to know2 Listen, Marcus.
Aunt Zillah isn't even willing to let me
take lessons of the new professor, who is
coming to establish a conservatory at
Dingford She says it costs so much.
And I've a voice. know I've got a
voice-and, if only had a chance to cul-
tivate it, / might earn 800 year sing
ing in the choir, as well as Emily Elmer.
mot bad idea, said Marcus, thought
fully regarding her.
How she had shot up in his absence,
like one of the tall red lilies in the gar
den, or the fower-de-luces under the
window-this solemn eyed. olive skinned
young cousin of his! Rather pretty,
too; though in that outlandish calico
dress no one could tell what there was of
her.
"Sing something for me, Beck. Let's
hear what you can do"
Rebecca higgins leaned back against
the rude wooden column of the portico,
a trail of creamy honeysuckle flowers al
most touching her braids of ink black
hair as she stood and burst out into one
of the triumphant hymns which, in their
church music, had most struck her
fancy
Awake, my SOUL stretch every nervei'
and sang it through to the last word of
the last verse.
"Weli, said she, as the perfumed sum-
spoke as if the vocal organ belonged to
some one else, what do you think of it 7
- As clear as flute, said Marcus, and
as sweet as thrushl heard Miss Flor
eta Foliati sing Solo at st. Errydice's
last Easter Sunday went there
to report for the Daily Onaninna-that
wasn't so much better than that, although
Of course there was no end of trills and
flourishes and that sort of vocal gymnas-
tics about it.
Rebecca's eyes glittered.
do you really think SO, Mark Then,
if"
AT that moment Aunt Zillah's voice
was heard calling loudly:
@Marcusl Marcus! Come in to your
dinnerl Rebecca, why aren't you here
to dish up the stewed chicken and green
peas?
-Hello!" said Mr.. Offiey, as he passed
through the stuffy little parlor, how'f
the chronological collection? Oh, you
have got beauty herel say, Aunt I'll
lah, can have that blue fellow for my
friend, Professor Rapparees He's fairly
cracked ON butterhiesn
Certainly you canl' said Aunt Zillah
with emphasis. That blue butterfly il
worth SO. the paFson says
@Ten dollars would just pay the price
Of ten lessons at Mr.. Meriam's new con
eervatory, murmured Rebecca.
Mr.. Meriam's conservatory, indeedi
snapped Aunt Zillah. / wonder If you'd
be 50 anxious to go tagging to q conserv.
atory where they taught weaving rag
carpets and darning stockings Go and
look after the dinner at once while
show your Cousin Marcus my collection
Of moths and butterflies. But the blue
winged one Is the gem Of the lot. You
are right there. There amt d0zeE
specimens like Il IN the country, the par
son tells me. There's collector In Bos
tom would be willing to pay most any
SUM for il, I'm credibly informed. But,
and she chnckled gleefuLly poor as