St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1895-08-03

yacting caps, grace the esplanade and
indulge in many morning bitters.
Lunch, boredom, dinner, boredom in
tensified by . drawing-room filled with
old spinsters. giRRling girls. and youths
who persist IN singing, with the mis-
taken idea OF amusing the sufferers.
The shadows deepened in the corners
OF the room Is the twilight died away.
The house was perfectly still. the gar
den looked cold and gloomy. 1t was
the silence and gloom Of sorrow, for
his home was . house Of mourning.
Crossing the room wearily. he peeped
into the garden of dim shadows, press
ing his feverish face against the cool
glass; his dry eyes were heavy with
anguish. Only two years ago they had
planted those shrubs and 1iowerA She
with her little hands encased In huge
leather gloves. he in his flannels, WELD
ing . spade like a true son of Adam.
And the flowers still bloomed in their
Eden. but he must pace its paths alone.
Other hands would pluck those flowers,
and other lovers sit in the arbor where
they had 50 often watched the moon.
light silver the rustling leaves. He
had lounged there with his pipe. care
less and happy, as she nestled at his
pering sweet condolences.
BY one whirl of the wheel Of life il
was in the past. but still unburied.
Sinking into his chair he rested his
head upon his hands It was very.
very dark. So swift and sudden had
the trouble come upon him that it still
seemed like the haunting memories of
. terrible dream. But . few months
ago he was happy in the sweet com
panionship OF his wife; now he was
alone.
Happiness in this world depends
largely upon ability to forget 1t was
not without feeling OF pleasure that
he had accepted De Vaux's invitation
to rejoin him in Gray's Inn. Tho
rooms seemed more comfortable than
| before. and the freedom was delight
full. As the band upon his hat became
narrower. the restraint, prompted by
sympathy, with which men regarded
him, died away. He drifted hack to
the old life with feeling of pleasant
expectancy. but to find the world had
| changed. Il surprised him to discover
how selfish De Vaux had become, while
the manners of their ''set" panied him.
Their brilliancv seemed to have given
place to fash gaseousness. originality
to carping contentiousness: wit was
now insolent abuse. and humor posi-
tive vulgarity. Yet they were the
same actors without = shop authors
without publisher. and less extraor-
binary imbeciles without an object
in life. With indolent interest he used
to expect great things from some Of
them. but they were still squatting in
the mire. The Junior Gatherium had |
been refurnished. and the cooking was |
excellent. but the same decline was |
noticeable among the members The |
tales old Badboy narrated in his cor
ner OF the smoking-room were, to say
the least. unfit for publication. yet the
old fellow was his most cherished &C
quaintance in the byRone days. The
place abounded in loud-voiced boys Of
a new and. to him. most Objectionable |
species The past belongs to the past:
a man cannot live his life again.
''Poor old fellow, don't care to say
disagreeable things about him. hut,
really, he had become a most selfish
beggar." said De Vaux. leaning against
the mantel-piece.
Marriage spoils a man utterly
said his friend rs he knocked the ashes
from his pipe on to the carpet. .You
ought to get married again. he's NO
good for anything else"
He used to be such jolly, easy-go-
ing fellow, now he growls at every
thing. The way he bullies our un-
fortunate laundres is shocking. When
he wakes up, he'll make You sweep
those ashes from the hoor'
The side the man puts on. his as
sumption of virtue. and the way he
snecrs at US really, anpoys me. He is
. skeleton At every feast. looks as
shocked rs n curate If a man tells a
racy tale, and actually called old
Soaker a cad because he could not
walk downstairs. / remember bring
ing him home in a cab two or three
years ago, and he yelled comic songs
al the way
''It's awful" said De Vaux. with .
laugh: last Sunday he came in while
was having afternoon tea with some
ladies, and simply turned upon his
heel, and slammed the door as he went
out
well, I'm afraid you can't poison
him and put him out of his misery"
L. - - ~ &n0ftou |
bore him, the halls are disgusting. He
won't dance. does not drink enough to
enliven q healthy child. smokes in .
corner and growls. At the club no one
can understand him. He has tried the
river. CALF, the Solent, the card room,
and Paris, all in vain. / don't know
what to do with him. You remember
our last little supper party here.
Well. he got it up, and was perfectly
Disguised with everything and every
body. yet all the boys were old
friends"
''Yes, I'm afraid he is incurable-"
"Yes, I am" cried Selftun. sprinRing
from the sofa upon which he had been
sleeping. I'm 4 nuisance to myself
md all of you. / can't forget the two
happy years of my life. and can never
live them again. I'll 60 into some cor
ner and wait patiently for the future.
since cannot 20 back to the past"
Isn't he . lazy dadda. snoring like
big bow-wow when baby wants to see
him.
"Why, Kitty" he said. dreamily,
awaking with start. lis it really you?"
Really me. silly boy. Whom else ,
lid you expect, sir?" she asked. waving
the baoy before him.
Come tome. sonnie. he cried, laugh
ing vayly. '.See how eager the little i,
.hap2ie is. Kate"
Then, as Philly nestled en- his shoul.
der. clutchinR vainly At his mustache,
he drew her down onto his knee, and
said. softly: by Jove, darling, how ,
have missed you
Poor hOv - ~, H>~A - - l