Rensselaer Standard, Volume 1, Number 17, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 October 1879 — MARY’S LESSON. [ARTICLE]

MARY’S LESSON.

“No, Lacy, never make a lovematch," said young Mrs. Strong to an old school friend who was paying her an afternoon visit. “Maury for money for interest—for anything but love. I have tried that, and made a failure such as It would break my heart to see you make." Lumr Moore listened silently, a thougbful shadow on her fair young fsce. * “Is it indeed true?" she said. “I grieve to hear it. How well I remember your wedding day, Mary. How handsome and noble he looked! How bright and happy were you! Oh!surely he loved you very dearly then?" “He thought he cud, and so did V' said Mrs. Strong, with a half-choked sob. “But ft did not last long, Lucy. We have been married just two years to-day. He left me this morning without a kiss, as he always does. He will come back to dinner in the same way, and after it is over he will go out to his dub, orsome other place, and never come home until I have gone to bed. And yet I have been a good, faithful and careful wife to him. I have studied his comfort in every way, and this is my reward!” She hid her face in her hands as she spoke. Lucy Moore bent over her and whispered: “In every way save one, my dear Mary." Mrs. Strong looked up. - “What do you mean?” '•Promise not to be angry and I will .-••you.” 4 Go on." “Your husband asa young man was very found of music. Do you ever play or sing .to him of an evening now?" “Oh, no We gave that up long enough ago." “But why?" “I am sure I can’t tell. It was such bore to practice." “Do you ever read aloud to him or have him read to you?” “No. I used to; but somehow that 1$ given up too." “And your dress; shall you change It before ne comes to dinner?"

Mrs. Strong shook her her head. She wore a dingy, flounced delaine, no collar or cuffe, and her hair was rough and untidy; her whole look one of carelessness. “He would not notice it if I did. Where Is the use.Lucv? It is all too l^e.” “No, it is not too late. But it may he soon," said Lucy, earnestly. “Mary, some one ought to tell you. No one dares to hut me. Your husband does not go to his club of an evening. He goes to Mrs. Wylie’s. You know her; you have heard her name—‘The Queen of Flirts.’ Mary, she is a dangerous woman. She lives but for admiration ahd that she means to have. Your husband gives her admiration now; take care that he gives her no more—his love!" Mrs. Strong burst into tears. “What can I do?" she asked. “I know that woman too well. What chance have I against her?” “Give yourself a chance,” said Lucy, with a kiss. “Let your husband find a Sleasant welcome from a wife neatly ressed, Mary. Forgive the hint. You have beauty and grace. Do not neglect them longer. Sing to him, Mary, play to him, charm and fascinate him. You have done it once. Try again, and save him from the ‘Queen of Flirts.’ ”

She stole softly from the room. It had not been a pleasant lesson to receive; it might not have been a pleasant one to give; who shall say? But Mrs. Strong was a sensible, as well as a pretty woman, and five minutes after Lucy Moore had gone she went to her own room, acknowledging that her friend had spoken but the truth. That evenimr, just after the street lamps were lighted, Mr. Strong came carelessly toward his home. Carelessly ? Yes, that was the word. The house was fast becoming to him only a place to eat, sleep and dress in—a place for which he nad to pay rent and taxes, but iu'which he took no comfort or pleasure, if the truth must be told. “Never mind, I’ll go to Grace Wylie’s as soon as dinner is over, and she will make it up to me, bless her bright eyes!” thought Mr. Strong, as he opened the frontdoor with his latch key and strode across the hall. Only half-way, however, for there

before him, at the foot of the stairs, stood a graceful, pretty woman, with satin smooth brown hair and ©right blue eyes, and cheeks as red as roses, wearing a pretty evening dress of darkblue silk, and shining ornaments upon her snowy neck and arms. “Welcome home, dear James!” she said, with a heavenly smile. “It is the second anniversary of our wed-ding-day. Won’t you spend this evening withime, dear?” His only answer was a cold embrace and a sudden kiss. Her eyes were dim as he sped up stairs to his own room to prepare for dinner. “Brute, fool that I have been!” he thought to himself. And after dinner, on the plea of smoking one cigar, he went into Bond street, and returned with a pretty gold watch and chain as a present to r his wife. Ah, it was not too late. He loved her still, and she had saved him and their happy home. The lesson was not lost upon her. From tnat day she has never grown careless—never ceased to strive to keep her husband’s as she once tried to win her lover’s love.