News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1891-03-26

voice as clear as forest birds;
And I'm sure the glad young heart had cause
To utter the sweet and lovely words.
Perhaps the woman had worked all day
Washing or scrubbng; perhaps she sewed
| knew her by her weary footballs way
That life for her was an uphill road.
| But here was comfort, children dearI
! Think what comfort you might give
| To the very best friend you can have here
! The mother dear, in whose house you live.
If once in a while you'd stop and say,
| In task or play for a moment pause,
| And tell her in sweet and winning way
YOU'RE the goodest mother that ever was'
Margaret E. Sangster.
A BROKEN ENGAGEMENT.
Tom Barclay and Elizabeth Murray
never understood each other very well,
and yet they had been engaged for
year. They had known each other
long before the engagement, too, but,
although a man seldom quite under
dense in this respect than most men,
and Elizabeth, more difficult than most
women for any man to comprehend,
unconscious of the fact, wondered at
Toms many failures in this direction.
They were very good friends, how
ever, and thought they loved each
o+bor bo1 ovoD cold ca in ctriot oOp
fidence-and, as | said, were engaged
| to be married. In fact, Miss Murray
was already at the mercy of dressmak-
ers and milliners, for it was December
late December and the wedding
was set for the 10th of January.
One night, the dressmakers and mil
liners having kindly waived their claims
for a few hours, Mr.. Barclay called to
see his prospective bride. He was not
in the best possible humor an ugly east
wind drove the sleet into his face as he
walked the few blocks from the cable
ears to Miss Murrays home, for Tom
| thought too much of his horses to take
! them out on such a night; man had
| failed him in an important business ap-
pointment, and it is quite possible that
he was a trifie bilious; at all events, he
was about as cross as he ever allowed
himself to become.
Now it happened that Elizabeth was
nearly worn out with the turmoil Incl
! dent to the preparations for n fashiOna-
BILE wedding. She was nervous and ir-
ritable; probably the east wind affect
ed her also. She needed some one to
smooth her hair, talk tender, comfort
ing words--in short, pet her until she
was rested; for the woman never yet
lived who did not like occasional pet
ting.
Now, Thomas Barclay was not
demonstrative man, and petting was
something out of his line. How was he
to know, especially in his unamiable
mood, that the young girl soon to be
his wife was in no condition to meet
impatience patiently.
''Thank fortune" " he said graciously,
kissing her as a matter of course, and
dropping into a chair, this dress max
| ing row will soon be over I've scarcely
seen you for a month. l won't have
dressnaEler on the place after we are
married"
Mr. Barclay did not mean anything
by this speech; it was simply an ebul-
lition of temper, and Elizabeth should
have met it as such; it suited her mood,
however, to retort with:
''Indeedl l mean TO have a dress
| +I,o l,oneo oil +bo +i,no
II wouldn't if were you," disagree
ably, especially against my wishes"
''And | should" she returned def
antly.
''Wen -" then common sense as
serted itself, and he laughed. 'Do you
know, Beth, we are just ready to quar-
rel about nothing2 My wife will prob
ably do as she pleases."
Miss Murray did not smile. She was
morbidly sensitive, and an ugly thought
had lodged in her brain. She said
quietly;
Tom, l don't like that remark of
yours ut all | wonder if it is possible
that after our marriage you would at
| tempt to coerce Inc in the least?'
Tom was obstinate. 1t would have
been better not to have asked the ques-
ton. He said:
"a woman promises to obey when
she marries.
Not always; the word is frequently
left out of the marriage service. 1t
would be better left out of ours"
''Do you mean that you will not
ObeyP' asked he, looking at her curl
ously.
"Just that"
"a man is the head of the family; it
is wife's duty to obey"
$50 have heard. l never thought
of marriage in this light before-a bond
age. 1t seems to me that a woman's
freedom is something not to be given
up lightly. | have never been dictated
to since left school, and do not be-
lieve / should take it kindly. Tom, |
don't believe l want to marry you, or
anybody; why" with sudden flash Of
passion, ''if you laid q command upon
me after our marriage l really believe
| should hate you"
III cTOSSGd Olll llllilO lllotu ~ blAe3AAS
be as well for man to curb his temper
until after the wedding day. He rose,
walked across the room, pushed aside
the heavy curtain and looked out. The
prospect was not pleasing; the sky was
black and the driving sleet pelted
against the plate glass. He came back
to where 3Iiss Murray sat looking into
the fire and apparently lost in thought.
Elizabeth, thought you loved me. u
did you? | thought so, too, though
have been told often enough that
didn't"
"Who told you soP
''Mamma, for one. Aunt Glare for
another You see, mamma married
papa for love when he was poor man,
and Aunt CIares husband died before
the honeymoon was over. She mourns
him yet. They always said 1 didn't
know the first principles of love; per
haps they were right"
Mr.. Barclay was never so thoroughly
astonished in his twenty-eight years o1
! life; he asked, rather stiffly:
''Will you kindly state why, you en-
gagged yourself to me-"
"Well, Tom, | always liked you
We've known each other for years
Our families are intimate What more
natural than that. you. the only son