The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1896-01-09
WHO CHANGED FIRST

Every one told Amy that Dick was self
ish. HeRmother told her SO. signing, and
adding kindly hope that this might
change him. Her elder sister, who was
married, told her the same thing, adding
that all men were selfish, SO it didn't make
much difference which one woman mar
ried. Her brother told her so scoffngly,
and even Dicks mother said:
I'm afraid you'll find Dick bit cap
tious, dear. I suppose we've spoiled him
glad to devote yourself to making him
happy"
And Amy smiled and sighed and blush
ed very prettily, which was way she had
at 49,
They had been engaged for about six
months when Dick felt that his native viii
lage did not afford sufficient scope for his
talents. He would go to New York, he
announced, make great name and
large fortune for himself and return to
bear Amy to the metropolis later. Amy
wept when he went away, and sang her
ballads with a sob in her throat for weeks
afterward, and worked diligently on her
household linens, and wrote Dick long
letters in reply to his brief ones.
In about year Dick wrote her that he.
felt that their engagement had been mis-
take, insinuating that a larger life and
moro brilliant opportunities than she was
fitted to share awaited him. Then Amy
gave up her ballads entirely, and put away
the household linens, and wept in the soli-
tude of her room every night. She told
him in the abandonment of her grief that
she could never change, and that If the
time ever came when he wearied of the
applause of the world and the glitter of
life and thought Iongingly of her he
might come back to her, sure of finding
her the same
Amy's tears had blotted that testimony
to her own constancy, and for months her
sobs would not let her sing any song with
''come back'' in it's refrain. Even Dick
was moved and put the letter away, where
he might refer to it whenever his self es-
TEEN needed bracing.
When Miss Annesley refused him, he
read it and thought of going back to Amy
at once, but pride forbade. Besides he
didn't care enough for Miss Anresley to
make her rejection a blow requiring i'm
mediate soothing. When he was dis
charged from The Monthly Merrymaker,
he came very near returning to Amy, but
position on The Magazine of Culture re-
stored his contentment somewhat. So
for two or three years he did not really
need Amy.
Yet he was conscious when he met with
the snubs and failures he could not avoid
in a great city that her sweet air of I'M
swerving admiration would have been
balm to his wounds; that he needed her
belief in his powers to compensate for the
utter Indifference of the great world. And
when even the pursuit of pleasure palled
upon him he began to long for her to bring
him comfort and happiness.
One night, when the world had been
unusually heartless, when he had been
ignored socially by some one and snubbed
professionally by some one else, and when
Miss Annesley's successor had been as I'M
kind Miss AnnesIey herself, he wan
dered into theater where a farce was
playing-one of the farces where the play
is peg upon which variety Hartists''
hang their ''specialties.
He yawned through it for awhile. Then
a woman came out and sang ballad-a
ballad of Amy 's-a Scotch song he had
not heard for six years.
He went home and read her letter again.
Then he went back to the village he had
not visited for SO many years. He was
happy in the thought of the joy he was
going to bring to Amy. He hummed the
song joyously:
Ye banks and braes O. bonny Doom,
How ye bloom sac fresh and fairf
How ye chaunt, we little birds,
And sac full, sac full O. carer
He fairly whistled it as the train rushed
along, and he pictured Amy sitting in the
twilight singing to him again.
He found her sitting in the freight,
and her girlish sentimentality had changed
to matronly sweetness. She was waiting
for the minister. whom she had married
and who, as she explained, had consented
to live in the old home because OF moth
err She wanted Dick to wait to meet
the minister and see the baby, who was
taking a late afternoon nap. And she
was honestly panied and surprised when
Dick raved at her treachery and stormed
about her fickleness.
''But, Dick" she protested, ''you
changed first
"Changed?" cried Dick. eff I had
changed, would be here?''
Always afterward he attributed his fail
ures and his failinRs to the fact that his
life had been blighted by woman's falsi-
ty. And he gained much sympathy from
credulous young girls because of his sad
story Amy of the ballads became more
or less famous as a sort of ''belle dame
sans merci," and Dicks most successful
book had for heroine a sweet faced girl,
with sad voice and soulful eyes and no
soul disoernible elsewhere, for it is a very
ill wind that cannot be made to fly some
kite.-New York World.
POPUL1ST CONVENTION.