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[For The Sunny South.]
THE OLD BATTLE-FLAG.
BY PHARMAX.
Tnfnrl it slowly, for 'tis tattered and torn,—
Handle it gently, for ’tis battered and worn;
Ita colors are faded, its texture is thin,
Its Cross and its Stars from age have grown dim.
Yes, unfurl it tenderly—let us look once again
On its once bright folds, now faded and plain;
Let us call up memories from out of the past,
And live them over while the bright vision lasts;
Let us bring up the heroes who under it fell,
And speak of our comrades who loved it so well.
Can you in memory go back in Time’s flight
And live over with me the past for to-night ?
Can you recall in remembrance when the Stripes and the
Stars
Were lowered to give place to the Stars and the Bars?
Can you see the brave men who never knew fear
Leaving home, friends, kindred, and all they hold dear,
To defend their fair land or lie low on the sod,
Their spirits at rest and at home with their God ?
/Jan you aee them, as you once did, in battle array,
And hear their mad shout as they won the hard day ?
Can you see our proud banner, aloft and unfurled,
As the gray ranks in charge were on the foe hurled ?
Can you, in memory, stand by the death-bed
Of Rome loved one in gray, whose blood has been shed
In defense of his rights, his country, home and wife—
Which was dearer than all, even dearer than life?
Can you stand by his side and catch his last sigh
As bis soul leaves the body and ascends to the sky?
Can you hear his last words, to be uttered again,
And think that his young life was all spent in vain ?
Look agaiu ! Let your thoughts go back to the past,
And rest on Appomattox, where the last die was cast.
Hear the war-worn veterans, you can but remember,
As in low tones they murmur, “We will never surrender!"
See them weep, and with bow’d forms and still lower
head,
When told it was hopeless — that their just cause was
dead.
Hark ! at the cannon's roar—do you hear the muskets
rattle ?
Do you again fight under our Cross as the troops go into
battle ?
Look at our Battle-Flag, as 'tis held aloft on high!
Hear that wild hurrah!—it is their battle-cry!
Oh! God, ’tis down! Listen at that wild cry,
As its defenders rush forward to regain it or to die!
Again it is aloft! Hear that wild shout!—they run,—
The enemy are retreating and the hard-fought day is won.
Alas! ’tis only a dream! the bright vision has fled,
For the forms of our heroes now lie silent and dead.
The memory of our loved cause was too bright and pure
to last,
And can only be remembered now as a dream of the past.
Yes, ’twas only a dream, for our cause, however just,
Was buried with the heroes who have long since turned
to dust.
Then take this Flag and furl it—put it up where you will—
For, like those who fought under it, it is cold, dead and
still.
[For The Sunny South.]
LENA ASHI HST'S MISTAKE;
OR.
Edgar Stanton’s Inertia.
A STORY OP SOUTHERN LIFE.
BY MRS. LOIS R. WILSON.
CHAPTER I.
The ball was at its height. The smiling host
ess moved through the rooms, delighted to see
that all went “ merry as a marriage bell.” A few
wall-flowers, however, seemed silently to re
proach her social tactics, and she glanced around
in search of partners for these. Her eye fell
upon a tall young gentleman leaning with indo
lent grace on the back of an antique chair, and
surveying the scene in a leisurely and rather
supercilious manner. lie was unknown to Mrs.
Lassiter, and though high-bred and even distin
guished in appearance, the lady felt a slight vex
ation at the thought that he had intruded into
her parlors, sacred to the elite. As she stood in
some uncertainty, his eye met hers, and she sud
denly recollected that he must he the son of a
wealthy planter whom she well knew; but he
had been absent in Europe for two or three
years, completing his studies, and she had not .
heard of his return.
“Edgar Stanton?” she exclaimed, coming up
to him with her sweetest smile, and extending a
white-gloved hand; c“an this be you?”
He bowed with much grace.
“It is I, madame. I feel flattered that you
remember me. I did not think any one here
would recognize me to-night. Pardon me for
coming uninvited to your entertainment; but
remembering your kindness of yore, I risked a
welcome.”
“There was no risk at all; you knew you were
heartilv welcome. I am delighted to have you
here. Do you recognize any of your old ac
quaintances ?”
“A few among the elder faces. The others
have passed beyond my recognition.”
“ You must make yourself known to them and
obtain a partner. The music is good to-night;
will you not dance?”
“Certainly, madame, if you will honor me.”
He held out his hand with another bow, and a
smile that revealed the gleam of white teeth
through his dark mustache.
“Fie!" exclaimed the lady, tapping his arm with
her fan. “Do you imagine that I would expose
myself to the envy of so many charming young
ladies by appropriating such an eligible partner ?
Not I. You must let me present you. Look
around over • this garden of girls ’ and select one
that pleases you.”
“ Madame, they are all pleasant to look upon,"
replied the voung man gallantly.
“Look around, nevertheless,” returned the
hostess; and she watched him with some anxiety
as his dark eye again ran around the room with
a careless, smiling, but really observant way.
There were young ladies of all styles: blonde
and dark, tall and petite; young ladies in pink
and blue and white draperies—a veritable par
terre. His eye singled out a tall, fair girl, in a
robe of floating gossamer, with a single diamond
star above her forehead. ;
“A magnolia among the roses, ’ was his
thought. "Who is the young lady in white,
with the star coronet?” he asked of the matron
on his arm.
“Ah! do yon, too, place your heart at her
feet?” said the lady, swallowing her chagrin ;
for her own daughter—pretty, dimpled Minnie-
had not been noticed, though she stood in the
constellation that was grouped around the star.
“Lena Ashurst is accustomed to having hearts
at her feet—and under them as well,” she added
in a lower tone and with a meaning smile.
“A female Juggernaut is she ?—heart-crushing,
but heartless herself ? „
“ Oh. I did not sav that, Mr. Stanton, at all.
“Then I inferred'it from what I remember of
Miss Ashurst in lang syne."
“You know her, then?”
knew her very well. Our fathers were old
college chums, and their plantations join.
He did not add that it was the cherished wish ,
of their respective fathers to bring about a mar- 1
riage between Miss Ashurst and himself.
“ I thought her a tricky sprite in those days— j
a very imp of mischief and waywardness—and j
she thought me something worse.”
“I need not introduce you. then?”
“You may, if yon please. I am sure she re
tains no recollection of me.”
There was a lull in the dancing, and they
passed easily through the room to the attractive
corner where Miss Ashurst stood among her ad
mirers. As they came up, they heard her decline
to dance the next set on the score of fatigue.
“My dear Lena,” said Mrs. Lassiter, “I have
come to add another to the charmed circle you
have drawn around you. Mr. Stanton asks to
renew his acquaintance with Miss Ashurst.”
She gave a little start of surprise and a quick
glance at the gentleman presented; then bent
her head over her bouquet in acknowledgment
of the introduction. She exchanged a few com
monplace remarks with the new addition to her
coterie, but not one word of previous acquaint
ance—no reminiscence of lang syne. He felt
They had moved toward the hall door, and
now stood on the threshold looking on the si
lent city sleeping in the moonlight below.
• The tall spires of many churches glittered
like enormous stilettos. A solemn hush was
upon all nature, wrapped in a winding sheet of
snow, and over all lay the broad, white light of
the moon, riding so high and cold in the steel-
blue sky.
Out on the still air pealed the twelve strokes
of the city clock, which told to listening ears
that the old year, with its hopes and fears, was
dead.
“ The king is dead! Long live the king!”
said Edgar; and then in a tone of reverence and
real feeling, so different from his usual one of
nonchalance, quoted softly:
“ • Full knee-deep lies the winter snow,
And the winter winds are wearily sighing;
Toll ye the church-bells sad aud low,
And tread softly aud speak low.
For the old year lies a-dying.’
“Do you like Tennyson ? If not, I’ll convert
you. But good-night; you’ll take cold if yon
stand here, and then I shall be blamed and put
the young people should be married at some day
not very far distant. The Colonel had been
known to say openly once:
“ When you are mistress at La Grange, my
dear, and Fred has found some nice little girl
like Winnie Lassiter to preside here at the
“Oaks,” I will have seen my dearest hopes real
ized.”
But she had some ideas out of the common
run, chief among which was the truth that a
man has higher duties than eating and drinking
and self-indulging generally. And as she saw
this man, who was to be the arbiter of her fate,
“rusting out,” as she termed it—wrapped up in
self, without anj’ apparent ennobling impulse,
she felt that she could never promise to love,
honor and obey him. Daily she tried to bring
herself to speak to her father of it; but to this
straightforward course there was one objection,
and an insuperable one. Edgar, although fall
ing in with the current of action toward her as
his affianced wife, had never asked her in so
many words. This she believed to be the result
of his thinking she would be delighted at such a
consummation. It chafed her, and was often the
‘SHE ESPIED SOMETHING IX/HIS/HAND,'OVER, WHICH HE, WAS' BENDING INTENTEY.”
ICH
disappointed; but in a little while she said qui
etly:
“Mr. Stanton, yon are a stranger; you have
not seen Mrs. Lassiter’s new fountain by moon
light. Come and see how lovely.”
: She led him to the window at the farther end
of the room, and showed him the silver jet spark
ling in the moonlight, in the midst of its circle
of evergreens.
“I did not know yon,” she said. “You are
much changed.”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
“How do you know it is one? How do you
know that I do not prefer the boy Edgar to the
traveled and polished Mr. Stanton ?”
“That can harly be. I have not forgotten
your mortal antipathy to the hoy Edgar; indeed,
I have a faint recollection of a box on the ear,
administered by your fair hand.”
| She laughed and colored.
“You were such a tease,” she said; “so fond
of poking dry, quiet fun at me. And you were
so provokingly hard to provoke. Well, have
you forgiven the box?”
“I will do so now, on condition that you he-
' stow the hand that gave it upon me,—don’t
frown; I mean for a dance—not just now, hut
some time later this evening. Just now I am
quite well satisfied, and I prefer to look on and
philosophize. What a labor those dancers are
making of pleasure. Look at that knight of the
rueful countenance advancing and retreating
before his vis-a-vis. He could not look more
thoroughly miserable if she were a loaded blun
derbuss in the hands of his deadliest enemy.
He does not know what to do with his feet, and
would hike half price for his hands.”
“For shame! The poor young man is enjoy
ing himself. He is not as indolent as you are—
content to sit or lounge at your ease ”
“And look at and talk to you. Are not you
content also?”
She flushed. He seemed to be taking it too
much for granted that she was satisfied to sit
and talk to him.
“No,” she answered, as the cotillion closed
and a waltz was played. “There is Verdi’s ex
quisite music, and I am losing my waltz. No,
indeed.”
He sprang to his feet and held out his hand,
but she did not move.
“Will you not waltz with me?”
“I think not.” •,
“But you said ”
“That I liked to waltz with a good partner,
and Major Ay re is a capital one. I am engaged
to him for the waltz. Ah ! here he is.”
A mustached and stately personage approached, :
bent over Miss Ashurst with a look of homage,
and claimed her hand for the waltz. She gave
Stanton a little smile and wave of the hand, and
floated away. He watched her with a twinkle in
his eye,
“Flirt to the centre,” was his mental com
ment.
“ Good-looking fellow, but indolent and self
worshipping. I’ll try to wake him up to the
knowledge that he has a heart,” was what passed
through her mind as she whirled round to Ver
di’s music.
He hunted up his hostess' daughter, Miss Win
nie, and devoted himself to her for the rest of the
evening. Miss Ashurst danced and flirted with
Major Ayre until that gentleman’s head was
turned with delight.
The ball came finally to an end, as everything
terrestial is bound to do. Edward lingered last
of all. He had devoted himself with marked
assiduity to Miss Lassiter, who. simple little
soul, attributed bis attentions to the power of
her attractions.
“I have had only a glimpse of you, my dear
boy; you must come to us to-morrow for a quiet
dinner.” said Mrs. Lassiter, in a motherly way.
“I shall be on my winding way to-morrow to
le bon pere, else I should be most happy.”
"Do you go so soon? You will have the so
ciety of our young ladies to Wynton.”
••Indeed!” he exclaimed with animation.
“Shall you go to-morrow?” turning to Lena.
“ We do, Winnie and I. Shall he glad to make
our duet a trio; which will be made a quartette
at the station, as Fred meets me there with the
carriage. Will you accept the extra seat ?”
“Most gladly.”
in the Same category with the man who tears his
! partner’s dress and steps on her foot. Aa re-
voir.” „
And he went away laughing. Then Lefta
looked after him a moment, shivered, turned
away and went to woo the drowsy god.
The next day they were seated in the cars, and
after a few hours’ delightful ride, arrived at
“ Wynton,” where an elegant carriage, drawn by
shining black horses, awaited them; and as the
evening sun lay aslant the hills, they drove into
the avenue leading to the “Oaks,” the residence
of Miss Ashurst, where they were welcomed by
that warm and unaffected greeting once so char
acteristic of our Southern homes.
you ought to see that they are properly cared for,
and not govern them through uninterested over
seers. Your father being disabled by gout and
general ill-health, it is your manifest duty to
take this burden on your own shoulders.”
“ Your ideas are the result of your Northern
teaching. I presume.” said he.
“I will not insult my loved South by saying
yours are the result of your Southern teaching,"
she replied warmly. “ No, they are the emana
tion of a selfish nature backed bv constitutional
inertia.”
“We have been quarreling all day. Lena, and
I don’t think I am the cause of it,” said Edgar,
as she entered the house and went to her room.
A bath and a few hours’ repose quite restored
Lena to a comfortable state of mind and body.
Attiring herself in a cool, white muslin, confined
at the belt by a broad blue sash, handing her
hair with ribbons of the same hue, she went
below stairs on a search for Edgar. Now that her
irritations had worn off, she could but acknowl
edge that she had been unreasonably severe and
unwarrantably out of sorts generally.
Repentant, she sought him in the library,
where ‘the shadows were beginning to gather,
and a sweet South wind gently swaying the laee
curtains to and fro. He was not there; his blue
and gold Tennyson lay on the carpet near his
accustomed lounge. A peep into the parlor sat
isfied her that it was vacant also, and a spasm of
regret and apprehension seized her lest he had
taken her at her word and gone home. She
passed on rapidly to her mother’s room, where
with the freedom assigned him he was some
times to be found; and there, through the door
opening upon it, she saw him seated on the
vine-wreathed gallery, his figure standing out
in black distinctness against the erimsoa even
ing sky. She espied something in his hand,
over which he was bending intently, and mov
ing up lightly toward him, saw a rather carica
tured representation of herself, engaged in her
favorite piscatory pursuit—standing on a log
that jutted from the bank, with head bare, hair
tumbled about, her neck and eyes eagerly intent
on the fish that dangled from her hook.
“So Mr. Stanton boasts artistic talent among
his many accomplishments,” she said disdain
fully.
He looked np.
“Don’t yon like the picture? I was just
amusing myself in your absence.”
“At my expanse,” she replied, her indigna
tion rising as she met his somewhat quizzical
gaze. “ You might have been better employed
riding home, I think really. ”
“Do yon really wish me to go home?” he
asked.
“I do.”
“Take care ! you might wish to see me before
you do so again,” he cried, rising with sparkling
eyes and an expression of countenance she hail
never seen him wear before.
“I’ll risk it,’’she returned haughtily.
“Very well,” said he with equal hauteur.
“Remember this,—I have been very patient of
your whims and caprices, because I loved you.
1 have home your taunts and gibes because I
knew that despite my ‘ selfish nature and con
stitutional inertia,’ I carried that within me
which only required the developing power of
circumstance to challenge your admiration; and
I knew that one day, sooner or later, you would
discover, that you were not the embodied pene
tration and wisdom of the nation. Until then,
adieu;” and he bowed coldly and left her.
: _ I She stood a moment, surprised and over
cause of many rude acts and rude speeches, all j whelmed by this unexpected outburst; then all
of which he bore with such exasperating cool
ness that she ,at last perceived it to he her
bounden duty to mortify the spirit of this self-
her instincts of hospitality cried out against his
departure at that hour.
“Papa,” she cried, as that gentleman came
enamored sinner. She was but half right, how- j into her mother’s room, “do go and ask Edgar
CHAPTER II.
Some months later, at an early honr in August,
breakfast was just'over at the “Oaks,” and the
young people, Lena, Fred, and Edgar Stanton,
who had spent the night with his friend and
j possible brother-in-law, stood on the gallery en
joying the cool air. The birds in the magnifi
cent trees which overshadowed the house sung
as if their being would dissolve in music.'
Through the umbrageous multitude of leaves, as
the light wind swayed them gently to and fro,
one could catch glimpses of a blue, blue sky, cul
tivated fields and meadows, and the broad stretch
of woodland standing dark and still and cool in
its own primeval shadow, and faraway the glim
mer of white cabins at the “quarter.”
Suddenly the stillness of the air was broken by
the harsh, jarring note of the locust in a tree
near by.
“There’s our signal—our caloric thermome
ter !” exclaimed Fred, throwing away the stump
of a cigar. “ This fishing frolic is one of your
many vagaries of taste, sister. ”
“I shall not insist upon your presence, my
dear brother. Fortunately, I can bait my own
hooks and know the path. Edgar can be ex
cused also if he desires it."
“Not by any means; for having made up my
mind to be martyrized to-day, I cannot forego
the complacency of conscience engendered
thereby.”
“I thought complacency your chronic condi
tion.”
“ If you are going to make a target of me with
your usual amiability, I think it prudent to
brace myself with an extra coat of mail. Com
mend my wisdom.”
“Here is your lunch, my dears,” said the
house-mother, appearing with a basket. “Yon
had best go before the sun gets above the tree-
tops. ”
Lena turned, went into the hall, took a straw
gypsy from the hat-rack, tied it under her chin
with a blue ribbon, then ran back to the young
gentlemen, unconscious how pretty and saucy
she was looking. Her plain, dark gingham was re
lieved by many ruffles at the wrists and throat,
where a blue ribbon confined it; a white apron
coquettish!}’ tied in an enormous bow behind
completed a toilette at once simple and charm
ing.
Then began the confusion incident on such
occasions. One little negro brought the bait
writhing and squirming in its unaccustomed
quarters; another brought the poles; one was sent
scurrying off for some forgotten article, which
he brought, and also a reinforcement of his kind,
until some half dozen were collected, watching
open-mouthed the manners of the “whitefolks.”
and thinking the height of human felicity would
be permission to go with them; but toone gany-
uiede alone was this enviable boon vouchsafed.
Everything arranged, they went to the fishing
creeks.
For some distance, Lena and Edgar walked
silently .together; he mentally agreeing with
Weller that a rum creature is woman; and she
thinking that this young man, with his natural
fine ability, handsome person and immense
wealth, should never call her wife until he had
discarded his petit maitre airs and learned to
think more of others by thinking less of himself.
She had been growing more and more dissatified
with the husband of her father’s selection as
each month rolled away, and yet she shrank un
speakably from disappointing the hope which
she knew lay nearest his heart. It appeared to
; ever, as she afterwards found, but it was years
J after.
Thus they walkd, each busy with unexpressed
thoughts, as the sun shot long lances of gold
| through the whispering leaves above or shim-
: mered over the drifts of dead leaves here and
; there below.
“You are not going to fish, eh?” inquired
j Fred.
“No, I believe not. I fin 1 Tennyson more to
| my mind, and s lall abandon myself to the lotus
j eaters until Lena gets through with that favorite
amusement others of impaling unresisting and
unoffending creatures upon the points of cruci
fixion.”
“Talk of Italy,’’continued he, some time after,
as he lay at full, lazy length on a grassy bank,
obscure from the rain of golden sunshine around,
“ there is not in the wide world a more beauti
ful clime than our own Southland. Can any
thing exceed the beauty of that ethereal blue,
melting away until vision—ugh! confound the
thing!”
For Lena had landed a fish full in his face, j
and the line becoming entangled in the branches
above, it was evident one or the other must va
cate the premises. He did so expeditiously.
Lena burst out in a merry laugh, assuring him !
that it was not intentional.
Whatever Miss Ashurst undertook, she did ;
with all her heart. She fished that day with an
earnestness and gay enjoyment that would have i
delighted Isaac Walton. Then she held up a I
string of piscatory treasures in triumph and
pointed to the declining sun.
“Time to return,” she said.
As they sauntered leisurely homeward, she I
turned to E lgar.
“I may as well say to you now what I have |
long wished to say,” she began.
“If you are going to lecture me on my short- |
comings in general and my indolence in partic-
ular, just let me light this cigar, by way of con
solation, you know.”
“I am not thinking of lecturing yon; hut, j
Edgar, I wish to know if you intend to spend !
the remainder of your life as you have this past
six months.”
“ Well, no,” he returned, contemplating the
upward-curling smoke. “I have been dancing
attendance on you this year, and after Christ mas,
or thereabouts, to be frank, I expect you to return
the compliment.”
The willful misinterpretation of her ^speech
caused Lena’s cheeks to flame. f
“You may affect to misunderstand the drift of
my remarks, if the humor suits you,” she said
angrily, “but I would recommend the beatitude
of human origin, blessed are those who expect
nothing, etc. I wish to know plainly if, with
your talents, wealth and education, you are go
ing to give yourself up to self-indulgence—to
eat, drink and be merry.”
“ Why should I not?”
“For the reason that you have hundreds of
souls under your command that should be
equally under your care. My father thinks our
negroes are left too much to the care of overseers,
who neglect and sometimes maltreat them. He
says, and you know he practices his theory, that
since overseers are a necessity on such large
plantations as ours, that they should be person
ally superintended by the master; he thinks
such a course would promote a more kindly feel
ing between slaves and their masters.”
“Is that your drift? I thought ambition was
your text—that you wished me to mount the
stump and harangue the gaping multitude on
the impending crisis, or by dint of money and
social influence, buy a seat in the Senate or ac
cept the Presidency.”
“Why should you not?”
“ Cai bono ? Shall I, with enough and to spare,
press into the thronged arena of public life and
thrust from some mouth its needful bread ? You
are a poor moralist, my little Quixote.”
“ That is as you please, of course. I was
speaking with reference to home duties. I think
that as master of two hundred slaves, who are
to remain all night. He is going home.'
“I have asked him, and he refused, my dear.
His horse has been standing under saddle an
hour or so.”
Lena said no more, hut went to her room and
alleged headache for her non-appearance at tea.
CHAPTER III.
i Spring-time had coma, with the song of re
joicing birds, the blue glimmar of violets on the
hill-side, the tender blossoming of trees—had
come, was on the wane, and May roses filled the
j air with with rich perfume.
We all know what had happened a month pre
vious, April, 1865, at Petersburg—how all our
| hopes went down in eternal night as our loved
Confederacy passed into a glorious memory.
Edgar Stanton had not been idle in the strug-
j gle.. He knew whereof he spoke when he said
| he required circumstance to develop his latent
energy; and he had had ample time and oppor-
j tunity to prove the truth of his words sincS he had
j stood with Lena Ashurst five years ago, on the
j vine-wreathed gallery in the August gloaming,
j On many a hardly-contested field his bravery
' had been the theme of every witness. From
more than one he had brought a badge of honor,
a sabre cut or bullet wound.
Lena had seen him only at rare intervals dur
ing all these years, on which occasions his man
ner to her had been only that of a gentleman to
ward any lady. It seemed that the waters of
Lethe had rolled over that portion of his life,
j and that a vail of darkness had settled between
them forever.
He had come back to the old homestead, she
had heard, to gather up as best he might the
! scattered remnants of a once princely fortune.
The old father had died early in the struggle,
and Lena thought with a yearning pity of that
coming home to the desolated hearth-stone.
These thoughts ran through her mind as she
sat on the terrace with the rain of golden sunshine
about her and the light breeze kissing her brow.
She was trying to read Tennyson, hut the book
was too suggestive of happy days long gone, and
it dropped idly from her unconscious hand as
thought went sorrowing back.
A horseman came up the avenue, dismounted
at the gate and moved toward her before she
came out of her reverie. She sprang up, turned
red, caught her breath, and sat down again as
she recognized Edgar Stanton—bronzed and
bearded, but E lgar Stanton still, with his own
old careless grace of manner, his own winning
smile.
“You look very much the Lena of old,” he
said, taking her hand. “Haveyou not made the
beneficial discovery prophesied ?”
Years of sad experience and observation had
convinced her of her mistake, and up to this
day she is the proud mistress of La Grange, and
has never had cause to complain of the “consti
tutional inertia ” of her energetic and success
ful Edgar.
At Pompeii they recently found a curious
record. It was scratched on the stucco of a
kitchen wall, and has been thus translated:
“Lighted his fire, cooked his meals and swept
his house for him 28,000, times to this day, and he
refuses to take me to the circus.” Beneath this,
in a different hand, is written, “Women are
never satisfied.” .
The meanest man in New York lives on Jackson
street. He cuts the account of the Beecher
scandal out of the paper every morning and
hides them in the Bible, to keep his wife and
mother-in-law from reading them. He says,
“ they never look into that book,” and he tells
them “ the dog chaws the paper full of holes.”
A religious weekly of high standing gives
this advice: “Kiss, but never tell.” It is very
excellent advice, too, but it often happens that
a man who has taken a kiss feels so good after it,
sue Knew my urniu » ~ , that, like the boy who finds a jack-knife, he
be a fact tacitly admitted by both families that not simple beasts of burden, but have souls, that j must tell it or burst.