Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1913-08-05
! M,.di1oneI6. We are crent

vomanf Tradihonsily. we are GREAT
"A ant Of rose leaves and star dust apo
fhe harmony Of THE winds, bwe we neeo
a steel chain netting to fend u.s. Slow.
" I unbuttoned that black dress that
symbolized the ending OF six years OF
the blackness of married life, from
which / had been powerless to reno
myself, and the rosy, dimpling thing
in snowy lingerie with tags OF piue
ribbon that stood in front OF my lnif-
ror was as new born as any other hour
old similar bundle Of linen and lace
IN Hillsboro. Tenn. Fortunately, an
old. wear before last. white lawn dress
could be pulled from the top sneil OF
the closet In q hurry, and the Molly
that came out of that room was ready
for life-and lot Of It quick and fest,
And again. fortunately. Aunt Adeline
hod retired with a violent headache
and black Judy was carrying ner III d
hot water bottle with broad grin on
her face. Judy sees the world from
the kitchen window and understands
everything. She had laid large thick
letter on the hall table where couidht
| fail to see 1t.
took possession Of 1t and carried II
N bench In the garden that backs up
against the purple sprayed lilacs ana
"a fianked by two rows Of tall purple
! and white iris that stand in line ready
for u Virginia reel with delicate row
| of the poets narcissus across the broad
pLth. I love my flowers. l love them
swaying on their stems in the wind,
| and | like to snatch them and crush
the life out Of them against my breast
and face. I have been to bed every
night this spring with bunch OF cool
violets against my cheek. and l reel
that I am going to f1irt with my tall
row of hollyhocks as soon as they are
old enough to hold up their heads ana
take notice. They always remind me
of very stately gentlemen. and ! have
wondered If the fluffy little butter and
eggs weren't shaking their ruffies at
them.
A real love letter ought to be like
cream puff with a drop Of dynamite In
II. Alfred: was that kind. felt warm
and happy down to my toes as read
It. and \irned around so old Lilac
Bush couldn't peep over my shoulder
at what he said.
He wrote from Rome this time
where he had been sent on some sort
of diplomatic mission to the Vatican,
and his letter about the ancient city
on her seven hills was prose poem
In itself. was so interested that
read on and on and forgot 1t was al
most toast-apple time.
OF course anybody that Is anybody
would be interested In Father Tfber
and the old Coliseum, but what made
me forget the one slice Of dry toast
and the apple was the way he seemed
to he connecting me up with all those
wonderful old antiquities that had new,
err even seen me- Because OF me he had
felt and written that poem descriptive
of old Tibpr and the moonlight had lit
up the old Coliseum just because
was over here lighting up Hillsboro,
Tenn. with IIr. Carter dead. OF course
that is not the way he put it all. but
there Is no place to really copy what
he did say down into this imp book.
Anyway. that is the sentiment he eX'
pressed when 1t Is boiled down and
sugared off.
That's Just what mean. Love boil
ed down and sugared Off is mighty apt
to get an explosive flavor, and one had
better be careful with that kind If one
Is timid, which I'm not. AS said
also. I am ready for little taste OF
life, 80 1 read on without fear; and. to