Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1892-07-14

cid college mate. He was living as a
gentleman farmer on his family estate.
and had niece who was a pretty girl,
not very rich, it is true, but we pleased
each other in an unromantic way, and
were married. 1t was not by any means
my intention to give up Paris entirely.
On the contrary, we spent two winters
there. The third year, however, our
courage failed, for my wife was not
very strong, and /, in my loose slippers
and corduroy jacket, thought gloomily
of always dining in evening dress and
making and receiving endless calls of
yawning in the theater night after night.
'Then there were the children to think
of, and we ought to economiEe. So, lit
tie by little, / was weaned from city
life, until at last / seemed to see Paris
through mist, and now it is to me a
far distant place, to which do not know
the way. l am thoroughly provincial.
| have my wife, my children, a small
circle of friends who do not exact a re-
turn in kind for every courtesy. shoot
little, fish little, cut down my hay
and put it in my barn. That has been
my life for the last ten years."
"And the music?' | asked.
"Oh, have not given it up entirely"
he said, with smile of embarrassment;
''that portfolio in the corner is nearly
full. l have begun several great works,
but nothing is finished, for somehow,
between ourselves, | find that the in
toxicating Paris air is necessary for in
spiration. Your presence, however, will
do just as well, and shall set to work
In earnest"
"Poor Mark AntonyV' l thought. At
that moment the door knocker sounded.
| heard the servant go through the hall,
and then a lady of prepossessing appear
ance entered the room, preceded by two
little boys dressed in sailor suits, their
cheeks like rosy apples and their calves
scratched and sunburned.
"My wife," said Mark Antony, pre-
senting us to each other, and the lady,
after bidding the children shake hands
with me, asked if would not stay to
dinner.
"Of course he will, not only today,
but every day as long az he remains
here!" exclaimed my friend joyfully,
and his wife echoed his cordial words,
though a cloud of dismay passed over
her face.
"We have nothing but stew for din
ner today" she said; perhaps you will
not like it. My husband told me how
to make it, with pork, wine and spices.
am rather successful with it, think"
Delicious" l said, and she hurried
into the kitchen, which adjoined the
parlor dining room. As she raised the
lid of the stewpan which stood on the
stove, its contents gently simmering,
white, savory steam rose around her
like cloud. Then she rejoined us,
holding spoon into which she was
blowing gravely with the air of a priest
ess.
"Taste it," she said to her husband,
who, having obeyed her, pronounced it
perfect.
She put the spoon to her own lips,
then said slowly, "No, there is some
thing wanting" After thoughtful
pause her face frightened and she ex-
claimed, "Of course, have forgotten
the laurel leafw
She went over to the piano, and smil-
ing gayly, unconscious of sacrilege,
picked with her plump little hand the
last leaf from the Virgilian wreath. l
was horror stricken, but Mark Antony
seemed utterly Indifferent; he was evi-
IDENTIFY accustomed to see his former
glory absorbed in stews,
A quarter of an hour later thought
no more of it, for we sat down to din
ner, and the stew, with its slight SAVIOR
of laurel, was indescribably delicious
Translated by Isabel Smithson for Ro-
nance.