Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1892-02-18

Well, in such converse as this we
reached Liverpool in due time, and went
next morning on board our steamer.
We had lovely passage out, and all the
way, the more we saw of Melissa the
more we liked her. To be sure, Lucy re-
ceived terrible shock the third day out,
when she asked Melissa what she meant
to do when she returned to Kansas City.
"You won't go into the postoffice again,
Isuppose, dear?" she said kindly, for we
had got by that time on most friendly
terms with our little Melissa.
81 guess not" Melissa answered. "No
such luck any more. I'll have to go
back again to the store, as usual"
"The store!" Lucy repeated, bewil-
dered. IL don't quite understand
you"
"Well, the shop, presume you'd call
it," Melissa answered, smiling. my
fathers gotten bookstore in Kansas
City, and before / went into the post
Office helped him at the counter. In
fact, was his saleswoman."
II assure you, Vernon" Lucy re
marked in our berth that night, "if an
Englishwoman had said it to me I'd
have been obliged to apologize to her for
having forced her to confess it, and ]
don't know what way / should ever have
looked to hide my face while she was
talking about it. But with Melissa it's
all so different somehow. She spoke as
sf ~ xx,ou tho ,,,oo% ', t,1rol fbiYn nv, n n ~
for her father to keep shop, and she
didn't seem the least little bit in the
world ashamed of it either"
"Why should sheY' answered, with
my masculine bluntness. But that was
perhaps a trifie too advanced for Lucy.
Melissa was exercising widening infu-
ence on my wife's point of view with as
tonishing rapidity, but still a perfect
lady must always draw line some
where.
All the way across, indeed, Melissa'S
lively talk was a constant delight and
pleasure to every one of US. She was SO
taking, that girl, so confidential, so
friendly. We really loved her. Then
her quaint little Americanisms were as
pretty as herself-not only her "Yes,
sirs," and her "No, ma'ams," her II
guess" and That's So" but her fresh
western ideas and her infinite play of
fancy in the queens English. She
turned it as potter turns his clay. In
Britain our mother tongue has crys-
tallized long since into set forms and
phrases. In America it has still the
Elasticity of youth; it is fertile in novel
ty-nay, even in surprises. And Melissa
knew how to twist it deftly into unex-
pected quips and incongruous conjunc-
tions. Her talk ran on like limpld
brook, with musical ripple playi1 g
ever on the surface. AS for Bernard, he
helped her about the ship like brother
as she moved lightly around with her
sylphlike little form among the ropes
and capstans. Melissa liked to be
helped, she said she didn't believe one
bit in woman's rights; no, indeed-she
was great deal too fond of being taken
care of for that. And who wouldn't
take care uf her, that delicate little
thing, like some choice small master
piece of cunning workmanship? Why,
she almost looked as if she were made of
Venetian glass, and a fall on deck would
shatter her into thousand fragments.
And her talk all the way was of the
joys Of Europe-the castles and abbeys
she was leaving behind, the pictures and
statues she had seen and admired, the
riaturac opd ctot,,os c1,a bod Loft rpx;e
tied. Somebody told me in Paris" she
said to me one day, as she hung on my
arm on deck and looked up into my face
confidingly with that childlike smile OF
hers, ''the only happy time in an Amer.
ican woman's life is the period when
she's just got over the first poignant re-
gret at having left Europe, and hasn't
yet reached the point when she makes
up her mind that, come what will, she
really must go back again. And
thought, for my part, then my happiness
was fairly spoiled for life, for I shall
never be able again to afford the jour
ney."
Melissa, nay child" said, looking
down at those ripe, rich lips, sin this
world one never knows what may turn
up next. I've observed on my way down
the path of life that when fruit hangs
rosy red on the tree by the wall. some
passer by or other is pretty sure in the
end to pluck it,
But that was too much for Melissa's 8
American modesty. She looked down
and blushed like rose herself. Bnt she
answered me nothing.