Newspaper Page Text
THE SOUTHERN WORLD, MARCH %, 1882.
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wasn’t like her to. She seldom mentioned
her home life, or her parents. Sometimes I
used to wonder if she could have loved them.
She seemed so happy now, and tier family
all seemed broken up. However that was,
those who knew, told what a devoted daugh
ter and sister she had been.
“The Professor seemed to be in no hurry
to marry. There wore quantities of pretty
girls at Ashwood, and not a few of them set
their caps forthe Professor—pretty, conspic
uously, too, didn’t they, Cliurlic? They
voted hint ‘justsplendid’ and 'awfully nice,’
hut he never seemed to notice them ex
cept to use them all in a friendly sort of a
way. After a while they gave him up, and
devoted themselves to the seniors. They
knew how friendly he was with Miss White,
and as long os he wouldn't full in love witli
them, they grew quite reconciled to her mo
nopoly of the only unmarried Professor. It
made some talk at lirst, hut after u little it
seemed quite a matter of course.
“ ‘1 don’t blame the Professor for liking to
tulk over his studies with Miss White, she
always enters with her whole heart so into
whatever you tell her,’ one of the girls said
to me one day.
“ After all, there was a ludicrous us well
as a pathetic side to Miss White's Love Ex
perience. Her affection for the man fifteen
years her junior seemed to have, as well it
might, an odd mixture of mother love in it.
She would mend his gloves, doctor him when
he was u little ill, muke him hot ginger ten
cold evenings. I think his mother must
have been one of the codeling sort, he took
so kindly to being looked after, generally.
"Tlie professor was no end fond of ginger
tea; in the winter he used to go off on long
tramps hunting up ‘horsebacks,’ and when
he came in he'd go struight to Miss White’s
room, the first tiling. We used to laugh at
him n good deal about his weakness for gin
ger tea.
“I remember one night Mias White asked
him witli u laugh, us she handed him a
steaming gobletfnl:
“ ‘ Prof. John, what will you do for ginger
tea when 1 got past labor ? ”
“ 1 What shall I do ?” and then the Pro
fessor struck a stage air anil quoted from
Faust, “MitOrnusen sill ichdus von writen,’
with an accent which would have driven
Mephistopheles himself to dispair.
“He stirred up his tea with u slow, circular
movement, took up a spoonful, let it drop
buck into the goblet, held ftp the glass to the
lamp, eyed it a moment, and suid:
“ ‘I’ll tell you ladies, when I marry, I shall
belike the King in Volksumnn’s Truumere-
ien, only, instead of PfefTernusse, the woman
to whom I give my heart must understand
us the first and absolutely indispensable
qualification, how to muke ginger tea with
the same happy combination of ginger,
sugar, milk, nnil water as the nectar I am
now sipping. Perhaps you find it effemin
ate in the Professor to take so kindly to cod
dling—of course, you don't, though? you
couldn’t have helped seeing his manliness
utaglnnce. ,
“Nothing suited him better than a wrestle
with a tough Northeaster. But there! where
is the man who don't like a cozy fireside,
warm slippers, and a sip of something hot
when he comes in tired and cold. Ah yes,
Prof. Charley, your lords of creation will
stand any amount of petting. I think the
roughest man 1ms somethiug of the child
left in him. We don't see it in his business,
perhaps, hut it comes out; when lie is very
happy or miserable, tired or sick. For all his
learning there was a good deal of the hoy in
Prof. 8elton.
“At last Miss Whito seemed perfectly
happy. Over a year liad gone by and nobody
had won the Professor. Perhups he never
would marry.
“On Saturduy—it was the last of June, and
we were all sitting ready for commencement
—the evening train brought a visitor to the
President’s wife.
“Miss May Garland was a classmate of
mine, and I confcssl wnsn’tvcryglad to hear
of her visit. Churles says I wns jealous of her.
I never could bear her. 1 never trim,
although, of course, I couldn’t help see
ing how hard she tried to captivate him.
“She was a pretty girl, no question about
that, and she had excellent tuste in dress-
understood making the most of her beauty.
Dear me, she ought to have understood how
to dress herself. She never gave her mind
to anything else 1
“Mrs, President was something of a
matchmaker, besides, May was un orphan,
with very little fortune—nothing to speak of,
and the President’s wife found her rather an
expensive luxury, I imagine. She was
twenty-five, had been engaged three times—
twice she had broken the engagement her
self, hut the last time it was the gentleman
who did it. Already people who knew Miss
May when she wns eighteen had begun to
speak of her as rather passe ; clearly it was
time something decided was done, it they
didn't want her on their hands for life.
“So reasoned Mrs. President, and as the
first result of her reasoning, had the Professor
there to dinner 8undny.
“Men are queer. Prof. Selton had resist
ed the wiles of a dozen girls, younger, quite
as pretty, and vastly more intellectual than
Miss May—who wasn’t intellectual ut all.
But, then, you never con tell any thingahout
it. He a man admiring simplicity, ten
chances to one he'll marry a milliner’s ad
vertisement! Perhups it’s all wisely foreor
dained—I mean, tliut nice men shall get
stupid wives, and vice versa. What would
become of the noxt generation if it were not
so! Why, of course there are exceptions,
Charley, so don't try to study out which
of us is the stupid one. Anyhow, foreordain
ed or not, Prof. Belton fell in love with May
Garland at first sight. If he hadn't he
never wouhl have fallen in love with her.
That’s all the chance a girl of Miss May’s
stamp has to captivate a nice man—to be
witch him with her pretty face before lie
has time to discover Dow shallow n brain lifs
behind it. Once in love, a man is blind to
everything while the spell lasts.
“Mrs. President was a wise woman. Miss
May, too, had hnd experience quite ade
quate to her twenty-five years and knew how
to improve tho golden opportunity. The
Professor was u rising man; moreover, he
Imd a very neatlittlc private fortune. Taken
all in all, she couldn't expect to mnkc a bet
ter parti. Evidently so they both thought,
and Mrs. President followed up her invita
tion to dinner with a lawn party to the sen
iors, to which Prof. Selton was invited.
"Charley was looking over examination
papers with the Greek Professor, and of
course I spent the eveningwitli Miss White.
She wns very still, said she hnd the headache,
and 1 left before Charlie came in. Just before
I suid good night we were speaking of a mu
tual friend who had recently married much
against the wishes of all who loved her.
“ ‘She’s a fool,’ I said more emphatically
than elegantly, I confess.
“Miss White laughed, such a queer, joy
less lnugh, ‘Don’t you pity her then ? I do.
She'll find out she’s a fool one of these days,
if, indeed, she hasn’t known it nil along—
and there can he nothing worse than to tind
yourself In a hopeless situation, and to know
that you have to thunk yourown foolishness
for it ull. To feel you have been a fool, to
know that you are still a fool don,t help the
ache. If I put my own hand into the fire
there, I shall get burned just as certainly as
if you did it for me. But one should not he
such a fool as to do it, yon say? Yes, I know,
hut supposing one has done it, and one is
already burned—they have all the smart to
hear and must keep still nhout it, because
nobody would pity their lament should they
give their pain voice. I pity our friend—
once, because of her unhappy situation, twice,
because she has been a fool. Quite likely she
wns old enough to know better, hut unfor-
funatcly there's no fool like an old fool, you
know. Good night,’ she kissed me, shut the
door, and if she read or sewed, wept or laugh
ed, I never knew.
“Wednesday afternoon, Miss May and the
Professor went boating; Friday, there wasn
croquet party at thu President’s, Saturday,
Mrs. President called for the Professor to
drive her over the village, and of course
Miss May was with her. One couldn't say
she planned It. The horse was skittish, and
Mrs. President frequently called on Prof.
Selton to drive her.
“The next week was commencement, and
of course everybody was full of business.
The Professor didn’t get much time for
boating or croquet. Miss May came out at
the class reception In all her glory. She
knew the Professor was in love with her. I
don't know ns one should blame her for feel
ing rather triumphant about it; of course
it was quite natural that she should like to
have the girls see that she had succeeded in
catching the man they had all failed to cap
tivate; hut she needn’t have been so unfeel
ing toward Miss White.
“I think Miss White did her best to like
her. I watched them, anil although Miss
May's remarks had the appearance of being
very polite, I could see that they were in
tended to wound, and that they did wound
Miss White very deeply, for she was very
sensitive. I hated Miss Muy more than ever,
standing there in all her youth, beauty and
triumph, she could well allbrd sympathy to
the woman old enough to be her mother,
who had no thought of standing between
her and her lover, but who loved him with
a love Miss May was incapable of under
standing.
“Friday most of the pupils went home,
and Saturday we hnd a picnic over on Blake's
Island. It was the fourth, you know. We
all went down the. river in a large boat hung
with Chinese lanterns for we were not to
return till evening.
“It was a very gay party, anil Miss White
was the life of it. If her heart was break
ing, Miss Muy should never know it. She
told some of her funny stories—perfect
character sketches of the old people she met
in her travels, and made us luugh until we
cried. Miss May was charmingly dressed, a
lu picnic from head to toe! she sat in the
stern of the boat, looking up in the sky and
down into the water, as if lost in admira
tion. It was very becoming to her. She
could not talk, and knew enough not to try.
It was about two o’clock when we Innded.
Wo hnd brought our supper with us. The
ladies had gotten it up, and the gentlemen
were to know haUiIng about the contents of
the various covered baskets until called to
partake of them. There were bouquets of
red, white unil blue at. each plate, and a
guess cake with the Declaration of Inde
pendence hidden under it. Tom Adams got
it. He told us afterward, that wliut made
him guess the Declaration of Independence
was because he was looking up something in
Miss White’s history tho day before, and
happened to think just before it cutne to his
turn to guess, that he hail noticed the Dec
laration lmd been cut out. He wondered at
the time what Miss White lmd done it for.
“Miss May wns going to Melville to spend
the Sabbath with a friend. She would have
to leave on the seven o’clock train, so we
had tea early on her account. We were just
entingour ices when she rose. Of course the
Professor would row her back.
“ ‘I’m sure the ladies will feel like eating
me up for taking you away from them, Pro
fessor Selton. Miss White, plcasp put off
Hint stern look, and persuade them to for
give me,’ she said with the most innocent
look in the world in her blue eyes. ‘Really,
Professor, it docs seem too had to take you
away from such a gay party.’ They said
good by and went away together.
The next day the Professor made Miss
White a long call after church. Monduy he
went away for his vacation. Neurly nil the
other professors went too. Charlie went to
Boston to attend to some business, and Miss
White and I were the only ladies left in the
hull, except the matron.
“As I afterward leurned, the Professor,
secure of Miss White's friendship, hnd gone
to her for congratulations the day after he
rowed Miss Muy up the river. How Miss
White stood it I don't know, but of course
she was expecting it, and must have man
aged to conceal her feelings or the Professor
would have asked her to tell me of his en
gagement. She never told me, however,
and although I mistrusted how mntters
stood, I never knew until I received the
wedding cards n month later. Her last en
gagement had taught Miss May to lose no
time in bagging her gnme after bringing it
down.
“Miss White was a broken-hearted woman
if ever there was one In the world. She
couldn’t beur to stay alone a minute. ‘Let
me come up and stay with you to night,’
she would say, ‘I’m so nervous nnd over
worked, I can’t endure being left to enter
tain myself.’
“Three days later Charlie came back nnd
then wc went away to the isluiuls to s|>end
our vacation, and Miss White went to her
aunt's in Vermont.
“When the fall term opened, Prof. Selton
came back with his bride, hut there was a
new preceptress. Miss White hnd resigned
her position on the plea of ill health. She
never came buck to Ashwood. The girls ex
pected her the next commencement, but
she didn’t come—I knew she wouldn't.
“A year from the next winter I visited
her. She looked ten years older, nnd seemed
to have lost all interest in life. It was such
a sad change! she used to he so cliccry and
so full of interest for everylmdy anil every
thing. She spoke freely with me relative to
her regard for Prof. Selton. Site seemed
perfectly aware that she had done a very
foolish thing; that fora womun of forty-five
to break her heart for a man of thirty was a
foolishness which the world could never
condone, anil for which she would expect no
sympathy. Did that alter the fact? She had
loved him before she was herself aware his
companionship lmd become a necessity to
her. That lie had never loved her other
than as a dear friend she had always known,
but as long as he was free she was wronging
no one by her love—now he was married
and each thought of him seemed to be a Bin.
“I went hack to Ashwood full of bitter
ness toward Prof. Selton. He ought to have
known better, he should not have been so
blind. He met me at the station, his hon
est face full of welcome, his thick boots all
balled up with snow. He had been hunting
horse-lmck for two days; hail just got hack;
Charlie was gone, so lie lmd run after inn, and
how wns Miss White? Why didn’t she come
to visit them? He must go to seo her, and
consult her about his new work on geology.
“ ‘Would she be able?’
“I looked him full in the face; 'No, Prof.
Selton, Miss While will never be able to
help either of us any more, and I was right,
for, three weeks later wc both went to her
funeral.
“Was Prof. Selton Imppy?
"For a time he appeared perfectly so, but
after a little he seemed like one who missed
something.
“His pretty wife never manifested any
cntliiisiatun in his work. Indeed, she is
hardly ever at Ashwood; she needs society,
she says. Her winters she spends in New
York, her summers at some watering place.
“The Professor is known ns a scientific
writer, but he has never written unything
as good as his 'Talks on Botany.’
"1 think it was Miss White's encourage
ment and enthusiasm that he missed; per
haps, though, it wns only the ginger tea."—
[Portland Transcript.
The True Wife.
Oftentimes I have seen a tall ship glide
by against the tide as if drawn by some iin
visible bowline, with a hundred strong arms
pulling it. Her sails were unfilled, her
streamers were drooping, she hail neither
side wheel nor stern wheel; still she moved
on stately, in serene triumph, as with her
own life. But I knew tliut on the other side
of the ship, hidden'beneath the great hulk
that swam so majestically, there was a little
toilsome steam tug, with a heart of fire and
arms of iron, that was tugging it bravely
on, and I knew if the little steam tug un
twined her arms and left the ship it would
wallow nud roll abut, and drift hither and
thither, anil go off witli the refluent tide, no
man knows whether. And so 1 have known
more than one genius, high decked, full
freighted, iille-sidlcd, guy-pennoned, but
that for the Imre, toiling arms nnd brave
warm-beating heart of the faithful little wife
that nestles close to him, so thnt no wind or
wave could part them, would have gone
down with tho stream and have been heard
of no more.—[Oliver Wendell Holmes.
Home Love.
Home Love is the best love. The love that
you are born to is the sweetest you will ever
have on earth. You, who are so anxious to
cscupc from the home-nest, pause and re
member this is so. It is right that the hour
should come when you, in your turn, should
become a wife and a mother and give the
liest love to others; but that will be just it.
Nobody, not u lover—not a husband—will
ever he so tender or so true as us your moth
er or father. Never again, ufter strangers
have broken the beautiful bond, will there
he anything so sweet ns the little circle of
mother, father and children, where you were
cherished, protected, praised and kept from
harm. Yon may not know It now, hut you
will know it some day. Whomsoever you
may marry, true and good though he may
he, will, after the love days are over and the
honeymoon has waned, give you only what
you deserve of love or sympathy—and usu
ally much less; lest you lose that love which
came in through the eye because the one
who looked thought you beautiful. But
those who bore you, who loved you when
you were thnt dreadful little object, a small
baby, and thought you uxqpisitcly beautiful
nnd wonderfully brilliant—they don’t care
for faces that are fairer and forms thnt are
more graceful than yours. You are their
very own, nnd so better to them always
than others.—[Christian at Work.
Rearing nnd Training of Children.
Every mother should bear in mind that it
is easier to keep the children well than it is
to cure them after they become ill. A few
simple rules, faithfully and unflinchingly
observed, would banish nine-tenths of the
sicknesses among children thattoooften lead
to fatal results. Give them in the first place
plenty of love—expressions of love! Often
times fathers and mothers deeply love their
children, yet show such little evidence of
affection that the children are apt to have a
furlorn feeling that it doesn’t exist at all.
An occasional word of praise, a caress, an