Greenfield Evening Republican, Greenfield, Hancock County, 16 January 1895 — Page 4
THE PASTELLETTE.
"T*- pastelle is too strong," said ho.
4,Lo
I will n::ikc it. fainter yet!"
Aiicl iie wrought with tepid ecstasy A pastellette.
A
tou^h, a word, a tono half caught— He softly felt and handled tlie:n Flavor of feeling, scent of thouglit,
Shimmer of gem—
Th:it we may read and fool as he What vague, pale pleasure we can get From this mild, witless mystery,
The pastellette.
—Impress.
AUTHOR AND GIRL.
"And yon really write books? Fancy! How do you do it?" "Ob, I don't know. How do you invent a new frock?" "I sit—and think—and frown—and ficold my maid. "My process is just the same." "Fancy! I wonder if I've read any of your books. No, I don't think I have. You see, I don't read much. "Your eyes were made for something better," observed tho author politeljT. "Oh, now, that's out of one of them. Isn't it? Yes, I shall read them if they're like that. Are they like that?" "Well, I don't always get such an inspiration," the author admitted. "If I always could"— "I might come and sit by you," suggested the Butterfly thoughtfully. "Not in working hours, thanks," said the author hastily. "That's very horrid of you I I shouldn't get in the way." "Oh, yes, you would." "But I'd—shut them." "What would happen then?" asked tlie author, smiling. "Oh, please be sensible," implored the Butterfly. "I was told you were so clever, you know." "It's a term of abuse nowadays, observed the author resignedly. "I'm not clever, you know. My sister Mildred is, though." "But then"— began the a\ithor. ""Why, she's a sweet looking girl," interrupted tlie Butterfly in apparent indignation.
"They always are," said the author, '"'Mamma's looking this way," remarked the Butterfly after a pause. "All right. She thinks I'm a publisher," and ho smiled at tho Butterfly' caution. "Did you tell her so?" "Well, I live by telling them," protestod the author. "Are 3*our books ever about—about love, you know?" "Always, lie answered, with a touch of melancholy. "Don't you get rather tired of it?" "Of writing about it," said tho author. "And aro your heroines nice?" "No." "They'ro not! Nor your heroes either?" "Beasts," said tho author gloomily.
The Butterfly looked at him sympathetically. "Ishould have a nice hero anyhow," she remarked. "Heroines don't matter so much. Why don't you make them nice?" "I can only draw from what I see." "But you know some nice men surely?" "All the men I know," said the author, with emphasis, "are"— "But I kuaw a lot of men you do, and"— "They're all in love with you," concluded tho author. "That's why"— "They'ro horrid." "Yes, and why I wanted to know you.''
Tho Butterfly glanced again toward mamma. "You'ro sure she thinks"— she began. "Certain," the author assured her, with another smile. "Why did you want to know me? Do you want to put mo in a book?" "Would you read yourself if I did?" "Why, of course I would. You'd give me a copy, wouldn't you?" "In return for" "My help, put in the Butterfly hastily. "I wonder if I should recognize myself, though?" "I don't expect you would, said the author. "What should you make mo do?" "I should mako you break a poor man's heart." '"Oiriy one?" asked the Butterfly. "It doesn't do," said tho author apologetically, "to divido the interest. But for that I'd make it a score." "Oh, it's not a score," murmured tho Butterfly as she played with her fan. "And then you'd marry a rich man." "Yes, yes that's very good. Go on. "A lord, I think. "I'm not particular about that." "And then"— The author seemed to hesitate. "Well, and then?" "Then you'd bo very sorry you'd done it," said tho author.
The Butterfly looked up at him, then down 011 her lap, then up at him again. "Think so?" asked the Butterfly, and a smilo appeared on her lips. "You would bo—in tho book," said tho author firmly. "Oh, in the book!" murmured tho Butterfl3r, with a kind of amusement. "I see," observed tho author, "that you wouldn't recognize the picturo.
Tho "Butterfly paused before shomado any further remark. Then sho asked: "Should you bo in tho book yourself?" "Yes." "Who would you be?" "Surely you cajri guess that, said tho author. "You mean that you'd bo"— "Poor and broken hearted, of course."
Tho Butterfly considered this for a Moment." "And when I was very sorry what happened?" "Nothing," said tho author. -m-s-d "That doesn't sound very amusing," •bserved the Butterfly. "No. It's a realistic book," said tho author. "Who was the rich man in the book?"
1
asked the Butterfly almost in a whisper. The author covertly pointed as he I answered, "That man talking to your mother." "Oh!" said the Butterfly as sho blushed. Then she added, "Books aren't a bit lil:o life, aro they?" "This one is," insisted the author. "It will be a horrid boo"^" said the Bui'ii.rfly. "Abominable," assented the author.
They both sighed. "Nothing at all happened?" she asked again. "He was not killed in the hunting field," said tho author. "Not even after ever so many years —three or four, I mean?" "No, never. He lived on.
The Butterfly was looking attentively at the man who was talking to her mother. "It will be a horrid book," she said, with a little shudder. "But you couldn't help yourself. Ho was so splendidly rich, you see." "Was it—very awful?" "Dull as ditch water. You'd never cared for him, you see. "Hadn't I?" asked tho Butterfly.
There was a pause. Then the Butterfly, with yet another glance across the room, added in a whisper: "Why do you write it if it's horrid?" "Why do you?" asked tho author.
The Butterfly unbuttoned her glove and buttoned it again. "Were you always broken heartod?" sho asked. "To the very end. "And wcro you always poor?"
Tho author smiled. "I mado a most wonderful success," said he dreamily, "with a book that came out exactly one week after the wedding." "Then you were an author in tho book too?" "The portrait of 1110 is exact in every particular," said he. "And of me—is it?" asked the Butterfly, still ongaged with her glove. "Well, is it?" asked tho author. "Are you mercenary?" "A little," said tho Butterfly, with a pout. "Worldly?" "I liko nice things, said tho Butterfly, with a sigh. "Shallow hearted?" asked tho author, bending down to her. "Well, can you see to tho bottom of it?" sho asked. "I'm trying. Thcro's something right at tho bottom"— "Is there?" sho asked, and she opened her fan. ',3 "I wonder if I could divo in and get it!" "I shouldn't do that. I should let it stay," said the Butterfly. "Really?"' asked tho author. "Perhaps," said tho Butterfly. "And tho book?" "Don'twrite it," whispered the Butterfly.
At this moment the mother of tho Butterfly and the man opposite rose. "I must go,'' said tho Butterfly. "It's funny I met you. I—I've seen you about so often." "I've seen yon about, too, said the author.
Tho mother of the Butterfly and the man were close now. "If I writo the book, may I send you a copy?" asked the author. "Tho book, "said the Butterfly, "is not to bo written, and she turned most graciously to the man as he approached.
The author bowed and escaped. "I've been telling your mother who that fellow is," said the man. "Yes, "said the Butterfly's mother, with a significant air "I was mistaken about him. He's just a—writer"— "Of very stupid books,'' said tho man.
Tho Butterfly looked at him for an instant. Then she observed in a distant manner, "Well, I've just prevented him writing a stupider one still. "What about?" he asked. "Curiously enough—you," returned tho Butterfly. 'Confound him! What would he have said about me?" "Nothing," said tho Butterfly, with marked emphasis, "that is in the very lest likely to be true. So I told him to leave you out. But I said he might writo about 1110 if ho liked." "Does ho want to?" asked her mother. "Why, yes, I think so," smiled the Butterfly. "It won't be a bitmoro true," growled the man. "I don't know about that, said the Butterfly, and sho smiled again.—Anthony Hope in National Observer.
Agreed With His Cross Examiner.
Mr. James Hyde, once a lawyer in a small town on Long Island, tells a good story about himself. He says: "It was when I used to practice law in a little town near the center of tho stato. A farmer had one of his neighbors arrested for stealing ducks, and I was employed by tho accused to endeavor to convinco tho court that such was not tho case. The plaintiff was positive that his neighbor was guilty because ho had seen the ducks in tho defendant's yard. 'How do you know they are your ducks?' I asked. 'Oh, I should know my own ducks anywhere!' replied tho farmer, and ho gave a description of their various peculiarities wlierebj'he could readily distinguish them from others. 'Why,' said I, 'thoso ducks can't bo of such rare breed. I liavo seen some just liko them in my own yard.' 'That's not at all unlikely,' replied tho farmer, 'for they aro not tho only ducks I liavo had stolon latoly.' "—Indianapolis Sentinel.
A Famous Paris Itattle.
1
ho
battle of tho butchers and car
penters was a civil strife between two factions in Paris in 1413. Tho Duke of Burgundy armed and led tho butchers. Tho Duko of Orleans armed and led the carpenters. A regular battle was fought in tho streets and public squares of Paris. The carpenters wero victorious and drovo all the butchers out of the eity.
rvA SJ4SS&K The Uutterflies' Fad.
I
happened one night in my travels To stray into Butterfly Vale, •Where my wondering eyes beheld butterflies
With wings that were wide as a saiJ. They lived in such houses of grandeur, Their days were successions of joys, And the very last fad these butterflies had
Was making collections of boys.
There were boys of all sizes and ages Pinned up 011 their walls. When I said 'Twas a terrible sight to see boys 111 that plight,
I was answered: "Oh, well, they are dead. We catch them alive, but we kill them With ether, a very nice way. Just look at this fellow—his hair is so yellow
And his eyes such a beautiful gray.
"Then there is a droll little darky, As black as the clay at our feet. He sets off that blond that is pinned just beyond
K-S'S.
In 11 way most artistic and neat, And now let me show you the latest, A specimen really select, A boy with a head that is carroty red',"-.\i.w -iiii
And a fact th:.t is funnily specked.
"We eannot decide where to place him. r-:. Those spots bar him out of each class. We think him a treasure to study at leisure
And analyze under a glass." I seemed to grow cold as I listened ir*,To the words that these butterflies spoke. With fear overcome, I was speechless and dumb,
And then with a start—I awoke 1 —Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Tides.
O patient shore, that canst not go to meet Thy love, the restless sea, how comfortest Thou all thy loneliness? Art thou at rest When, loosing his strong arms from around thy teet, He turns away? Know'st- thou, however sweet
That other shore may be, that to thy breast He must- return? And when in sterner test He folds thee to a heart which does not beat, Wraps thee in ice and gives no smile, no kiss, To break long wintry days, still dost thou miss Naught from thy trust? Still wait, unfaltering, The higher, warmer waves which leap in spring? O sweet, wise shore, to be so satisfied! Oheart, learn from the shore! Love has a tide! —Helen Hunt Jackson.
-iVars.
But, ah! the tears that are not wept, ,» The tears that never outward fall The tears that grief for years has kept 1 Within us—they are best of all The tears our eyes shall never know wi Are dearer than the tears that flow. —Father Ryan.
Liberty.
There is on earth 110 liberty so great But that its very greatness, soon or late, Doth lend the means whereby the favored free Convert their freedom into tyranny.
Clifford Howard.
Mrs. Henrotin's Stand.
Mrs. Henrotin, tho president of the General Federation of WToman's Clubs, and an influential member of tho Chicago Woman's club, is strongly in favor of admitting to membership the colored woman who is knocking at its door. According to report, she has only ono disability, that of race, but her proposed membership is raising a row of dimensions in the club. In taking this liberal stand, Mrs. Henrotin rebukes the narrow minded sisters, who, last May, in Philadelphia, opposed her candidacy for the first office of tho federation because sho is a Roman Catholic. This, too, in tho face of tho most strongly defined rules of most women's clubs that religion and politics shall invariably be tabooed subjects.—New York Times.
Will Attend the Convention.
Presidents of sta^o suffrage associations from Ho states, together with many famous lecturers, will take part in the coming suffrage convention at Atlanta. Among those expected aro Rev. Anna Howard Shaw of Pennsylvania, Lillie Devereux Blako of New York, Carrio Lane Chapman-Catt of Iowa, Caroline E. Merrick of Louisiana, Alice Stone Blackwell of Massachusetts, Josephino K. Henry of Kentucky, Dora Phelps Buell of Colorado, Elizabeth U. Yates of Maine and Marv C. Francis of Ohio.
A Waist Uelt Fad.
The up to date Gotham girl is now collecting waist belts, not ordinary belts of leather, but costly jeweled affairs, to bo worn with tho short, round bodico of tho evening gowns. Something entirely new is a waist belt formed of rosettes of yellow Valenciennes lace mounted on whito satin. In tho center of each rosetto an imitation turquoise nestles. Another waist belt is of black satin, over which a swarm of golden butteries aro embroidered. wnat Co-operation Can Do.
The Women's Co-operative Guild of England may well stimulate American women favoring co-operation to liko effort. Tho organization has been in existence only a few years, but has accomplished a wonderful work. At its recent annual meeting over 300 delegates were in attendance. Its branches number 70 its members, 7,511. It has secured shorter hours for employees at Bristol, providing 97 courses of nursing, health, cookery, etc., besides singing and physical exercises, classes, clothing clubs and excursions. The laws relating to industries are discussed at their meetings. They aro in fraternal relations with the Woman's Trado Union association, the woman suffrage societies and other educational and reform movements.
KH'orins l'or Cuba.
MADRID, Jan. 10.—Tho cabinet has decided to formulate reforms for Cuba. Tho councils general and tho Protectionist deputies will be asked to withdraw their extreme demands.
Italian Knilroads ISIoelceri.
GF.NOA, Jan. 10.—Owing to the snow and laiicLiUiles the railroads in northern Italy are blocked in several places.
Judge Eulicli of Philadelphia decided that bicyclers had the right to use all turnpikes free and that toll companies had
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4^ x.
110
rif^ht to charge fees except for vehicles drawn by animals.
1
A severe and new kind of malarial fever lias broken out in Samoa. It is highly infectious. Natives are dying by the score, and its ravages are more terrible than internal will's. Foreigners are also being attacked.
The South Omaha city council, six of whom were accused by the Omaha Bee of blackmailing gamblers and other lawbreakers, sat as a jury Monday night to try themselves. After taking testimony they rendered a unanimous verdict that they were not guilty aa charged.
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