Year: 1876




BeckyY


1t was the charming relict of Migand
who asked the question, and the not
young and palpably maiden lady sitting
opposite her at the table balanced a
spoon upon her attenuated forefnger
with an air of profound thought, but
made 10 answer.


every strange things have happened
to members of my family who have been
the subjects of such prophecies, and /
have enjoyed their supernatural seeming
with delight that leads me to a super
stitious faith in the hidden intelligences,"
pursued the widow, as she poured a
delicate stream of amber honey over the
artistically Drowned muffin upon her
plate.


Still Miss Becky Smooth set her den.
tai ivories complacently into the crisp
breast of youthful chicken, slipped
leisurely her mocha and studied the
monogram upon the china with a
listeners eloquence.


"Do you know, Miss Becky, that
think this world Of ours stupid place.
find myself weary of everything. even
-"


"Your widowhood, that same stupid
world is saying"


Miss Becky's voice was smooth-like
her name. Still Madame Migand started
at the interruption, making small red
blotch of marmaladc upon her spotless
damask, and blushing slightly at the ac-
cident.


"That is as it may be, my friend; but
certainly / could welcome any thing less
terrible than an earthquake for the sake
of breach in the decorous monotony OF
existence"


"Ahl 1t is as the world has said
madame will marry. Well, in marriage
life passes out of the delicious rule OF
mono-anythings, and there are always ex-
elements, am told"


"You are wise in your condition,
Becky. The world is partly right, per-
haps. / married very young, and there
is a great deal in habit; but want a
change, and to take another husband at
once would be only going from the
white bed to the brown only exchang-
ing the blue fire of gout for the less
vivid flames of some less mature dis
temper!"


The widow of Migand was, as Miss
Becky Smooth had been informed, some
what eccentric.


Her history was quite as remarkable
as her capricious sell, but she had been
the lawful wife of The old miser-from
whence ever he brought her-and having
prepared him in due form for his final
rest, she retired to classic shades for the
conventional year of Grape, and at its
expiration shook herself out in c0lors
like a rainbow-in spirits like tOmtit
in fruity thorn-bush, in fancies like q
humming-bird- the world, looking
on, gave noiseless BravosW % as Migand's s
dollars ratified in its cash-box, while
society clasped his widow to its cider
bosom.


What Miss Becky Smooth hinted at
was quite true; but while Madame
Migand really contemplated for the
second time the sacrifice of marriage,
she halted upon her election.


The world insisted that madame would
never take Migand's fortune out Of the
name while handsome Richard lived,
but the amiable spinster across the table
did not so we'll know the flashing oriole
the small, yellow-belted insect hover
ing and buzzing among the painted tea
cup flowers and the open sugar-bowl op-
posite-as to be wholly certain that Daisy
Gordon was not the favorite, and that
his prospects would be injured by the
sad story she told of poor Amy Frost
and his share in digging her early grave
away in the city of Lindens.


=" 1t is easy for some women to die OF
broken heart, Miss Becky, and no one be
particularly to blame. Many Of us come
into this world provided with constitu-
tions ready to seize upon the first decent
pretext to retire from the ungenial under
taking of life. Miss Frost may have
been of that fragile make, and Daisy
cannot help being handsome and clever,
and all that, you know"
Did this mean that she would marry
him? Miss Becky was still uncertain,
and, being uncertain, lost her point.


"Do you know, Miss Smooth, that l
have fortune.teller among my SER
wants? Mol Well, have, and If his
torical descriptions are at all to be relied
on, make no doubt she is the veritable
sibyl who foretold the wonderful fortunes
of Josephine in the Isle of Martinico. l
have never put Saur's powers to the test
myself, but am in the humor for 1T to-
night. and, with your permission, shall
ring for berp


Surely the world was right-the
widow Of Migand was, without question,
eccentrici


Miss Becky Smooth, always compla-
cent, nodded her head kindly--so kindly,
indeed, that the relict started In alarm
lest that thin neck should break, and The
smiling countenance come rolling over
the butter-dish and the jelly-glassss,
through the sauce-trough and the salad
plat, into the midst of her painted tea