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THE SOUTHERN WORLD, MARCH %, 1882. 11 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