Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1892-11-26

boston Evening Transcript. ]

Two women One lives on an ought-to-
be-,sn,nioned farm There is an Atlantic
Monthly open On the doorsili. aud in her
room a win low sat of piled up magazines
la the spare room are fresh flowers, some
Fren h dressing, Mr.. Gannetts Blessed be
Drudgtry," and a bottle OF iRk-thngs
often missing from Queen Anae palace.
She puts will roses On the sweet breads
her hn.ban takes to market, and she has .
map of Boston over her kitchen sink
She welcomes US with lemonade,
IN chats of Gladstone, of her Eng
lish correspondents news of High and
Low church. of hop culture, Of the
waif for whom they are raising twenty dol
lars to send him West 10 new surroundings.
She quotes General Grant ..Cranforl.
John Burroughs, Mrs. oliphant, and St.
Nicholas nonsense rhymes. She gives US
cream and conversation at dinner, apollo
giving not at all for the thick dishes and
flies. 1T is quite in the style of rhoreau,"
she says, and quotes, with twinkle, bona
fde advertisement which says: "A lady of
Emersonian thought and sentiment offers
conditions of refreshment, spiritual and
physical to parties of two persons. Noun
tain scenery. Choice library in town.
meuts in emulation of Conaro and Thoreau
Separate rooms if desired. French and
German spoken. Fourteen dollars the
week for two persons"
Her humor plays over anything: we speak
of our zig-zag drive, and say how lovely
the country looked. fought to, after you
secured it so,' comes her reply. An anec-
dote is told of Welsh landlady trying to
g.
leans by saying to one of the gentlemen,
You will not mind dining with this fellow
countr, man? | believe he is your Mr.
Jefferson Davis" s'Our Mr. Davis ;" mock-
the teller of the story and our New Eng
land hostess says, well, he was ours,
wasn't he? We caught him"
But she is plain; oh, so wholly without
the charm of dress and daintiness. Her So
ciety every day is made up of farm bands
with their bad English shrt-sleeves and
appetites and appetltes. Even she, our
lady of the aspirations, has lost, through
her environment, her tidy freshness. Lost:
What has she not lost: We catch glimpse
of her divine discomfort as she says. while
we do the dishes, IF | could be spared to
go to Boston, / have not seen my sister
there for fourteen years; have never seen
the daughter of famous Boston clergy
man who writes me letters that are my best
tonic. II could go, if | could" But
she has a smile ready the next moment as
her little son comes back with the ency-
clopedia, in which he has been verifying
her statement. The pure, polite, wholesome
| Robbie Arare little nature, fit to make an
| Agassiz of But that is not to the point; he
| is her hoy. Mother love. We forget she
| is a farmers wife, woman of brilliant and
accurate mind, dru1ge---she is mother.
| We say, You who know everything, tell
us what merry thought is. Princess
Alice had a diamond one given her.
Run and get a merry thought, Robbie,
and AS he darts back with wishbone, she
adds, at suggests dressing if not dia
monds." You keep Thanksgiving, them
1--WE keep it always, because Robbie con
tinuaily gives it TO us" she answers with q
sweet gratitude. Her husband is a RiI
| Van Winkleish figure, but gentleman ano
a scholar, hough driving ON his meal bags
| Fitted to enter college, he joined the con
traband service instead. and gained his owr
soul bv losing the world. He values home
wife and child at their real inestimablC
worth. He is companionable. He is the
| father of her boy. These are some of hel
possess ons and her deprivations. Weigh
! them against each other.
| The other woman ID u well-known writer
She asks vaguely, When is Thanksgiving
| | should like to see the old hills. but these
are my mountains pointing to piles OF
proof sheets. She has grown handsomei
every year, as money and renown have
come with her gray hairs. She knows celeb
rites on both sides The water, 50 that with
her it j. not. did you see that Mrs. Oil
plant said" but ''Mrs. Ohphant said tC
me- She has forgotten where the gentians
grow, but she is smothered in cut flowers at
| her lectures. When tired she hears a
symphony, not the peddler's bell. Hel
room is fine, but it il saloon, not a home
| There are no toys, there is no child
| Her husband is man of iron intellect
who thinks he has formed her mind
| His very pride in her is a self assertion
He is willing to spare her to go over
the world, gaining honor. There is no
| baby's first step that she will miss while she
is gone-though that does not occur to him.
| He sees the food of literature in her room.
She can never tell him how, though girls,
to her mill, it fails of being the bread of
| life. She commands society. culture, art
and Worth. But two tiny arms will never
steal about her neck for little trouble to
be quite healed. There will come day
when she will say in tone of triumph to a
man behind his newspaper, Mr. -, my
publisher writes that a tenth edition of my
book is called for" And on that same day
| at the farmhouse door woman will wait
10 welcome returning husband with the
contented words, 1--WE have little grand
daughter, father
OF these two women one dictates, one
aspires. One has fame, the other child.
Which has the greater reason for Thanks
giving?