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from Capture," Dr. Harris upon “ Public Uses of Vital - At the recent Millennial celebration in Iceland one Statistics,” and Dr. E. Jarvis upon “ Vital Statistics of of the specially large guns was Mr. Bayard Taylor, who Different Races." “ The Ventilation of Dwellings of the acquitted himself admirably, as he always does upon Poor” is discussed by Dr. Kedzie, and “ Animal Vaccina- large occasions. In a speech of welcome by Professor tion" by Dr. H. A. Martin. Dr. D. F. Lincoln reports | Magnussen (a native Icelander, though now Librarian of on “School Hygiene,” and Dr. A. L. Carroll on “ Hy- Cambridge University, England), America was mentioned, giene in Schools and Colleges." Dr. J. Foster Jenkins, at and Mr. Taylor was introduced as the Scald Poet from one time Secretary of the U. S. Sanitary Commission, has America. He quite surprised the people by addressing a long paper on “ Tent Hospitals,” and Pres. A. D. them briefly but fluently in Danish. When he had conWhite's now famous paper on “ The Relation of National | cluded, the king, who was standing in the thick of the and State Governments to Advanced Education " is given crowd, led the cheering, giving the Scald the full and in full, together with the discussion that followed, which regular three times three, and on a subsequent occasion was engaged in by Dr. McCosh, Principal Tulloch, and told him he was exceedingly surprised to hear him speak others. “ Free Public Libraries " is a paper by W. W. ) in Danish, and complimented him on his command of the Greenough, one of the trustees of the Boston Public language. Library, and Cephas Brainard writes of the “ Social Science
- A correspondent of a Boston journal, alluding to the work of the Young Men's Christian Association.” These
private picture-galleries of New York, says that the largest papers are accompanied by reports of the discussions
and best is probably that of Mr. James Lenox, from created by the reading, and the impression produced upon
which the public gain no advantage, its doors being closed the reader is that here is a body of capable men, really
against visitors, as is the superb library of that gentleman. in earnest about their work, and that work of very great
He possesses four genuine Turners, of wbich there are importance.
few in America, to view which some of the more enthusi- Mr. George Cary Eggleston, lately editor of Hearth
| astic artists of Gotham would be delighted. There are and Home, and author of the series of papers “ A Rebel's
| also specimens of Gerard Douw, Teniers, Cuyp, Ruysdael, Recollections,” now publishing in The Atlantic Monthly, is
and other famous artists of the Flemish school; while in to be editor of Our American Homes, a monthly published
pictures of the French, Italian, and Venetian schools the by Henry L. Shepard & Co., of Boston. Mr. Eggleston
collection is especially rich., Mr. Lerox has little faith is a brother of Edward Eggleston, author of " The Hoosier
in American art, and consequently few of our native Schoolmaster,” and other Western stories.
| artists are represented. Church's “ Cotopaxi,” for which
$6000 was paid, is the principal exception to this rule. - Mr. A. A. Hopkins, editor of The Rural Home, of) In 1863 the ladies of New York appealed to Mr. Lenox to Rochester, has nearly ready for publication, “ His Prison / open his gallery to the public at an admission fee of $1, Bars; and the Way of Escape.” a temperance story of his in behalf of the Sanitary Commission. It was estimated own, which he has been publishing in the columns of his that at least $10,000 could be raised in that manner. paper.
Several other gentlemen had responded favorably to a like
request, and the devotees of art in New York, feeling - We spoke lately of the desirability of tablets or other assured that no refusal could be made under the circummemorials to aid in localizing personal traditions in our stances, were felicitating themselves upon the unbolting of towns and cities. We noticed a simple and suggestive the mysterious doors, when a note to the committee from tablet of this sort, lately, in the entrance-way of a building the owner blasted their hopes and left them to suffer the on Tremont Street in Boston. That part of the street pangs of disappointment. Mr. Lenox pleaded that to which faces the Common has slowly been yielding to the accede to the request made would be to break a rule from pressure of trade, and there are now but few dwelling. which he had never deviated. The refusal was softened houses in what was once a favorite locality. Mr. Amos by a check for $25,000, a sum which the sender thought Lawrence was once a resident there. His house has been not too exorbitant to pay for peace and privacy. He inremoved and a business building raised in place of it. / tends to endow the Lenox Institute with these art treasLet into the wall as one enters is a marble tablet with ures at his death. the inscription —
- Conrad Heller is the name of an aged one - eighty
four - who resides now at Amsterdam, New York, folAmos Lawrence and his
lowing the peaceful calling of a cabinet-maker. It is his family lived on this estate
pride to relate that he fought at Waterloo under NapoXLVI years.
leon, and to read the newspapers without spectacles. This building was erected
– Mr. John T. Lacey, of Bridgeport, Conn., has re MDCCCLXVIII.
cently made a voyage of twenty-two miles on Long Island
Sound, in the space of three and a quarter hours, in a - The Bric-à-Brac series, which bas come gayly along row boat towed by a kite. The boat was twelve feet long, amongst books, like a literary humming-bird, say, grows and the kite ten feet high by eight feet wide. About six rapidly and with considerable variety. The next volume hundred feet of cord was let out. The speed of the boat to be issued will contain “ Prosper Mérimée's Letters to an is stated to have been considerably greater than that of Incognita," selections from Lamartine's Memoirs of bim- a small sailing craft which attempted a race. This was self, and from George Sand's Recollections. The volume probably due to the greater velocity of the wind at the to succeed that will go back to England again, and be taken elevated position of the kite. The towage of boats by from the chatty reminiscences of Barham, of Ingoldsby kites is a very old amusement, but it is a slow method of fame, Hodder, and Harness. Theodore Hook will figure navigation. The boat and kite can only travel in one largely in the book, a scapegrace of a joker who combined direction, directly before the wind ; whereas the ordinary wit and impudence in a singular degree.
sail boat can move obliquely, in various directions.
A JOURNAL OF CHOICE READING.
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 10, 1874.
Ben. “I am that troubled to know what is best - to HIS TWO WIVES."
send you this notice or to keep it. My captain says
'tis my duty as your true friend to send it, as I do. If BY MARY CLEMMER AMES.
it can only bring you back to us in peace and happiCHAPTER XXVI. SUCCESS ?
ness, I shall never be sorry ; but that, I am afraid, is It was not the actual man who had just gone from | not to be, though Lotusport can never be what it was her life that she mourned. It was the man that he
once to me, without you." should have been, for whom she cried. In his fading
“Defend her own interests !” Drag the bitter truth out she had lost the absorbing thought of her life. A
which had desolated her heart and life before the portion of herself seemed to have been struck from her,
world's eyes for its inspection and cruel comment, while to be drifting farther and farther from her, out some
the waste of happiness, the wreck of life, remained ? where upon the face of the earth. She often unaware
Never. She would put no plea against his desire. held her hand tight over her heart, as if to stop its
What that desire was she was all too sure for her own aching for what it had lost. This loss was not the
peace. If she were mistaken, would he have made no real man now sundered from her. It was for her lost
effort in all these months to discover the retreat of his faith, for sympathy and accord of soul, the consummate
wife and child ? That he had made no such effort she crown of all human companionship, that her nature
had every reason to believe, if only from the letters of
Mary Ben. Her home was rented to strangers, and called. Without these no human life could be complete. Yet it was these, the very reward of being, that
her husband never spent a day in Lotusport that the she had missed. They were not hers, they could never
exigencies of public business did not demand. She be hers; yet her life went on. But if she had never
could endure, but she could not fight against fate. comprehended to the utmost what a human life in the
The divorce must go on. This was indeed the end. fulness of its multiform being could be ; if she had had
Once her husband, always her husband. He could a less keen realization of what had escaped herself of its
never be less to her faithful soul. Nevertheless, to the most potential sweetness ; if she had not learned that
world she had already ceased to be his wife. At last
she had lost not only him, but hope. At last in exhardest of all lessons, to endure in patience, to grow in the graces of the spirit, — not in the repletion of happi
tremity she was alone ; alone as she had never felt ness, but through loss and dearth and want, through
herself to be before. loneliness and sorrow of heart, yet no less through love
The only visible sign of this interior desolation was and faith and ever-kindling hope, — she would have
the whiter face, the swifter hand. The spring came, been poor indeed. She would have had nothing to give,
the summer waxed and waned, the autumn blazed and
died, the northern winter piled its inviolate snows, whereas she now gave bounteously of soul-wealth to her kind. She poured forth of her largess without
and the heart within her had never made another outstint. Nevertheless the heart within her ached and
ward sign of its inward life. yearned even while it gave.
Meanwhile, even to the log-house within the forest She ministered and would not cease ; but in her
beside the Pinnacle had penetrated the eager questionutmost need who was there to minister to her? No one.
ing of the reading world concerning “ Ulm Neil.”
· Who is Ulm Neil ?” She never asked this question. But no less the want
This was the latest conunwas there, and the hope, though she was scarcely con
drum put forth in the realm of letters. Like other scious of it, that sometime, – perhaps in the dim Here
conundrums its interest deepened proportionately with
the difficulty of its solution. Many persons "knew as after, yet sometime, — he whose right it was would return to her, redeemed from the infirmities of flesh
well as they wanted to " just who Ulm Neil was; but
| nobody was sure. “Ulm Neil was a man.” “Ulm and spirit, to bind up the bleeding heart that loved him with the faith that it had lost and that lived | Neil was a woman." Ulm Neil was an already wellagain. This hope received a heavy shock one day. It
known author who chose to put forth this remarkable came in a letter from Mary Ben, in the shape of a
series of stories now published in a book called “The
Annals of a Quiet City,” under a new signature, that newspaper notice, an official announcement of a plea for divorce on the part of Cyril King from his wife
their revelations of life and character might not be Agnes King, on the ground of desertion. The defend
traced to a definite source. “Ulm Neil was a man of
| fortune and leisure, who chose to give his observations ant was summoned in behalf of her own interests to appear by such a date, else the plaintiff's suit would
of gay life and fashionable society incog.” “Ulm proceed and the divorce be granted to him.
Neil was a young woman, self-educated, who had not "My mind is twisted this way and that," wrote Mary
escaped the sting of maligning tongues nor the cruel
probings of poverty, herself; as her abiding and tender Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by H. 0. Hough. | sympathy with the poor, the wronged, and the sorrowTOX & Co., in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. ing, which made the very atmosphere and aroma of he enchanting genius, proved beyond cavil,” said an en- | little panting puffs of story. Agnes rose to receive her thusiastic reviewer of youthful years, who on the child from the hand of a stranger who with cold counstrength of this faith addressed her a private communi- tenance but perfect breeding told where he had found cation through her publishers, in it informing her that her little girl, and, barely waiting to receive thanks, ** his own personal experience had been of a like char- l departed. She had never seen him since, though while acter ; that he felt an irresistible conviction that his she stayed at Dufferin she certainly heard the name of soul was bound to the soul of Ulm Neil by mysterious the young rector on feminine lips oftener than any cognate ties that time would prove indissoluble; that
other. their destinies were coeval; that he awaited breath Here was a letter from him to “ Ulm Neil, Esquire.” lessly till he should see his conviction attested by the He said in this letter “ that when he became conscious divine seal of her own inspirational words ;” in short, of owing a debt, he could not make himself easy until he waited an answer. This was but one of hundreds | he paid it. He was certainly a debtor to the writer of personal letters which from every direction out in the of “The Annals of a Quiet City.' He rarely troubled world now met on the little table in the quaint log. himself with new authors, especially the writers of house at the Pinnacle. There were men who wanted stories, their books being the very opposite of his usual wives, and who were sure, by the delicate and touching line of reading. Indeed, it was quite by accident that revelations of feminine character made by Ulm Neil, he took up • The Annals of a Quiet City,' in a bookthat Ulm Neil was the mortal who could lead them to store. For the mines of human experience which it their ideals, which they had long been searching for revealed, the types of human character which it embodbut never yet had found. There were women who ied, above all for the strong yet tender help which it wanted to tell their sorrows, to pour out their aspira- | rendered to all upward-reaching souls, he thanked the tions; women who wanted sympathy, women who writer. One quality in the book he could not analyze, wanted help, women who wanted love; women whose while he felt it as a fascination : this was its atmoshair was gray and whose day was almost done, and phere of familiarity, a haunting something like a look young girls who wanted to be told the sunniest way to in the eyes of a stranger reminding one of a cherished the fulness of love and happiness.
and familiar friend. He felt rather than saw in some Through the mass of egotism, conceit, and foolish- of these pages the vivid light and quickening atmosness, how often the unfeigned cry of the human pene phere of his native North. There were touches, trated her heart. What could she do? Alas! how touches only, which seemed surely to indicate that the little to appease the never-satisfied want, to still the writer was familiar with the very scenes surrounding nerer-ceasing plaint. A word of sympathy, of help, of the reader while he read. Yet this was impossible. cheer, was all it was in her power to give ; how futile Nobody had ever dwelt at Dufferin who could have it was to relieve the stress of so much supplicating combined with suggestions of all its glorious outlying need! In the humility of helplessness she took on the land such revelations of cosmopolitan character and yoke of success. What was any pang of her own but a experience. Only a man could have written it, for it tiny pulse in the universal aching heart ? She bore was granted to man only to add to tenderness the griefs and carried the sorrows of her kind. She strength." could pity, cheer, and soothe, but she could not save. Sometimes with flushing cheeks, then with suffusing Because she could not she felt weighted with the bur eyes, then with indifference, Agnes read, in the newsdens of many.
papers sent by her publishers, both the gracious and Her letters were addressed to “Miss Ulm Neil,” to ungracious notices of her book. One would tell her “ Mrs. Ulm Neil,” to “ Mr. Ulm Neil," and one to that “Ulm Neil was all imagination ; ” another, that “ Ulm Neil, Esquire.” This one made an emphatic | “ Ulm Neil had no imagination at all.” In one he was impression, partly because it bore the address of Duf- an idealist with little or no force of thought; in another ferin, partly because of its tone, and partly because of he was a realist, and his worse than pre-Raphaelite its writer. He was the only one of these many letter- strokes were mere copies of literal life. She found Ulm writers whom she had ever seen. As she read the | Neil both unappreciated and over-praised. Perhaps name, “ Athel Dane," the image of a sombre-faced three " notice” writers in a hundred had really read the young man rose before her, leading her sunny-faced lit book with sufficient leisure and interest to receive its tle girl by the hand, just as he appeared once in the spirit, to quicken to the humanity thrilling through it, open door of Miss Buzzill's shop. Vida, pursuing buto | to perceive its mental quality, and to judge it justly both terflies, had run far down the street, where panting and in what it reached and in what it failed to reach. discomfited, for the butterfly had flitted far above her Because it was born of life, it lived. To her wonder childish reach, she was found just inside the church that which was most living in it, which touched lite yard fence by the Reverend Athel Dane, as he was | most nearly, was what the reviewers called “overstarting to take his afternoon ride. Anything half as wrought," and the most “ untrue to actual experience." pretty as that yellow-haired little girl he had never She knew now out of what travail of brain and soul seen inside of that church-yard fence. Flushed with and conscience a living book came; what will, what running and tearful with disappointment, she was full | bravery, it cost to dare to tell the truth, to paint life as of confidence and eager to be comforted. She had lost it is. How often the conscientiousness of a true artist, her butterfly, she had run away, and her mamma was adhering to her ideal of truth as she perceived it, at any up to the Corners. Whereupon Athel Dane, instead of price to herself, had been the only support of ber sinkgoing for his horse, took the little girl by the hand and ing spirit. From the first line to the last, not one led her back to her mother. Agnes, looking up from word of faith and encouragement had come to her from her work in an inner room, saw framed in the outer any human source. Even Mr. Blank One failed her on door the youthful but solemn face of a man (an unusual | the reception of the first chapter. He told her plaizaly sight in the door of Miss Buzzill's shop), and in the that he was disappointed. He expected — he did not same instant Vida's piping voice began to send forth I know what he expected; but “ certainly something different.” “He still hoped ” (but with many doubts | down the newspaper columns, rested upon this anand many fears unmistakably)" to sell the fifty thou- | nouncement:sand copies; but to make this possible she must brighten up, resume the sparkling style of · Basil: A
“A MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. Boy,' which was simply perfect in its way.”
Mr. Blank Two took the chapter to his home and “In this city, on the 1st of October, at the residence read it one evening to a circle of friends, critical and of the bride, Murray Hill, by the Reverend O. Tristcultivated to an extreme degree. No one of them ingbee, D. D., of the Church of the New Covenant, could create a work either of art or of inspiration, but Circe, only child of the late Rothsay Sutherland, of they could mildly and maliciously tear both to pieces | Sutherlands, Louisiana, and Hon. Cyril King, M. C. with a facility which amounted to genius. They con- | Louisiana, Edinburgh, and Paris journals please copy.” scientiously filtered forth a few drops of occasional praise to the unknown writer during the pleasant proc She read this notice through once, twice, thrice, as ess of dissecting him, but Mr. Blank Two was scarcely | she might have read it had she been asleep, with eyes conscious of these drops, and forgot them altogether | open yet with suspended consciousness. Slowly the sigwhen the next morning, from sheer nervousness, he nificance of what she read came to her comprehension reported to Ulm Neil every disagreeable word said " This is the woman who did not want my husband, by the guests of the evening before. The combined who did not want to marry, who wanted her freedom, verdict was certainly unfavorable to the first “ Annal her kingdom, her subjects only ; wanted his adulation, of a Quiet City,” it gave him great pain to say, but his homage, his subjugation, at any cost of honor, but as the larger share of the work was still unwritten not him! A year since the divorce! To the world there was a chance for growth, for a development of she is his wife. Then what am I ? I? I am dead. the faculty of telling common things in an uncom | I am buried. I am forgotten. I am not, and as if I mon way, - a faculty which Ulm Neil did not yet com- | had never been, in his world. Yet in wifehood, in mand.
| motherhood, I still live for him, for his child. Beyond These were her publishers who held her in such all outward form, beyond the power of human law to poor esteem, and beyond them her fancy conjured up annul, beyond the power of human treachery to dethe voiceless but scornful image of the sublimated stroy, I am his wife; I only, forever. I thank Thee, “ Co.," with his nose in the air, waiting the loss and my God, that she is not, that she never can be, his disappointment of “ the House” as due retribution for
wife !” its unwise trust in an untried writer. Her hand grew These words would have sounded like the raving of still, her brain cold and numb. She could not go on, a wild woman to the gay denizens of Vanity Fair, who not without one encouraging word, and in all the world with fawning and flattering salute hastened to welcome there was not one human being to utter it. Yes, there back to the capital Circe Sutherland as the Hon. Mrs. was one. Evelyn begged her to read “jest a page,” | King. The announcement of the marriage was more as they sat alone one evening. As Agnes read, Ev- than a month old. In a later journal that Agnes me. elyn laughed and cried, grew wrathful and tender and chanically took up, her eyes encountered, under the silent. The written page moved Evelyn just as life head of “ Gay Life at the National Capital,” an exmoved her, as she lived it hour by hour. Agnes went tended report of “ a resplendent reception given by the on. She never knew how or why; surely it was with Hon. Cyril King and Mrs. Sutherland King, on the no hope of reward, but no less with unconscious fidel opening for theseason of their magniticent mansion at ity to the truth that was in her. Here was the re- the West End.” More than a column of a metropolitan sponse. Her book lived in the affections of the people journal was devoted to a description of the upholstery because it was woven of the same tissue out of which and furniture of this “ palatial abode." All the adjectheir daily human life was made ; yet wrought into tives of English speech were exhausted in portraying purer, sweeter, nobler forms of experience than those its curtains, cushions, and divans of coral and amber to which they yet had grown; forms which they satin, of Gobelin and Aubusson tapestry; its velvet yearned and reached after, nevertheless.
carpets; its inlaid floors; its salons paved with mosaics ; The book sold well, if not wonderfully. Blank, its marvels of silver, gold, and glass ; its furniture of Blank & Co. were satisfied. Agnes Darcy was gone malachite and ebony ; its paintings ; its statues from and forgotten. Because she had lived, loved, suf- Rome; its carvings from Florence and Oberammerfered, and died to herself, Ulm Neil lived, strong, gau; its laces from the looms of Saxony and the bobtender, not unto herself, but for every human being bins of Chantilly. out on the lonely earth, hungering for sympathy, whom But the culminating " description," the one in which her great, helpful pity could reach. These were not Jenkins surpassed even himself in inflated metaphors Agnes' thoughts. She was thinking, before all this and fulsome flattery, was in the portraiture of this manrecognition how poor was the woman to whom it sion's mistress : “ Beautiful beyond the possibility of came. Admiration, homage, criticism, blame, held language to portray, or of eyes that had never beheld their due value in her mind, no doubt, but they were her dazzling loveliness to imagine, was this sumptuous less than nothing to her yearning and unanswering | woman, who had been the cynosure of worshipping heart. Her heart had never sought such rewards por eyes in the courts of Europe, had now begun her reign such a life. Desire had never painted it. The world as empress supreme in the social realm of the Federal might set its own value upon it — it belonged to the capital.” Then followed a minute description of the world. It had cost the woman too dear. What if the dress worn by her at her first reception. “A robe of whole world were hers, and yet the life of her life, of lace made in Scotland from her own designs, worn her love, of her home, were not ? She was still so over yellow satin, while the .rarest amber of Constanpoor that for such poverty the universe held no rec- l tinople, the palest that ever a sorrowing peri wept, ompense. With these thoughts her eyes, glancing l shed its soft lustre upon her lustrous neck and arms
• The host, superb in health and manly beauty, witty, this prove that the “moral tone” of the American fascinating, magnetic, looked a radiant god in happi- capital was lower than is that of other cities of the ness as he stood the central sun of attraction, fairly earth. Wealth, beauty, grace, wit, fascination, place, dividing the homage of the occasion with his dazzling and power are potential forces the whole earth over. bride. A pair so distingué had not appeared at the Without these, the concentrated purity of the entire national capital for a generation. Such wealth, wit, human race would stand as a cipher to what is termed esprit, eloquence, elegance, beauty, and grace did not “the gay world.” It was what Mrs. Sutherland King unite in one pair once in a century.”
had, not what she had not, that the gay world wanted As Agnes finished this paragraph, how distinctly she and took. It reserved to itself, however, its own invisaw the dome of the Capitol, white, stainless against the olable right of “making remarks” during the pleasant blue, as she saw it last; the Capitol itself on its emer process. Example: Scene, morning reception at the ald hill; the alcove in its library where she sat and White House. Mrs. Sutherland King upon the arm of listened to the beguiling voice that wrought her woe ; her distinguished-looking husband appears in the doorthe drawing-rooms at the West End beneath whose way of the Blue Room, and advances, while hundreds blinding lights she herself once stood, wherein she was of eyes concentrate upon her, toward the Presidential now as utterly forgotten as if she had never made one circle. Very near it, a little to one side, hovers the in their splendid throngs. Now? She could touch the Hon. Mrs. Peppercorn, exchanging running comments ceiling of the cramped room in which she sat. The upon all she sees and hears with her friend, Mrs. tapestry on its walls was six-cent cotton. Not a picture Midget. frame that decked it ever cost a dollar; the most sumpt | “There's that woman !” she exclaims, with loweruous article in it was her cane-seated rocking-chair. | ing brows. These cheap comforts, this small room even, were not “I do not call upon her,” replies Mrs. Midget with her own. Earth did not hold an object really her own, elevated eyes. - and he!
“I do," responds the senatress, “though first I never. Vida laughed in her sleep. Nothing her own! She would. With all her airs she is only a member's wife; went and threw her arms around her child ; was not nor that, by right or decency. My list is too long to she all her own? No woman was poor, no woman was admit of my running after members' wives (such a alone, who could hold to her heart her breathing child, herd !) even if etiquette did not demand imperatively all, all her own. In: having her, she had more than that they should make the first call. In society I they. In her poverty she was richer than they were. stand upon etiquette to the death, but not with my
Did Mrs. Sutherland King, as her estates and her friends, as Mrs. Skinflint of I. does. Her bosom friend pride caused her to call herself, step at once to her might die in the next room alone, if she hadn't made throne in the social kingdom without protest ? Was the first call. Mrs. Sutherland King made the first no one brave enough to call her a pretender ? to chal- call. You see I accept the Washington code,' she lenge her as a usurper of at least her newly attained said. I knew she accepted the necessity of propitiatname? Yes, the Hon. Mrs. Peppercorn was brave ing me. Money and beauty are not everything, even enough and honest enough to do both, and in a voice of in Washington. A good name and good behavior are no uncertain sound. There were a few, a very few, not without value, even here. She knows my opinion who, remembering “the first Mrs. King," as Agnes of hers ; that I'll never forgive her for her treatment was now called, and remembering also that she was of Mrs. King — the only Mrs. King. I know she was yet alive, somewhere in the world, regarded the pres- a poor-spirited little thing, and scarcely deserved the ence of a second Mrs. King as a sin against the family keeping of a husband when she wouldn't manage him state, and an offense against good society. True to any better. But to my dying day I shall never forget their convictions, a truth not easily maintained amid the look on her face at the ambassadors' ball; and I'm the many conflicting interests of Capitolian life, they not going to try. Now look at that woman in her proved it upon every possible occasion by the pointed place already!” remark, “ We do not call upon Mrs. Sutherland King.” | Circe, all grace, in radiant beauty even under the But as thousands did, that conquering lady did not searching chandelier, was dispensing smiles and wordseem to receive even a chill from the “cold shoulder” | music to the President, who was sufficiently entranced of the righteous minority. Society cherished its own to make it necessary for the official usher to recall him private opinion of Mrs. Sutherland King, a private from his lapse to hand-shaking and the throng. opinion that was perpetually “ leaking out” into public “ Look at her, Mrs. Midget !” groaned Mrs. Pepthrough the unguarded comments of the ten thousand | percorn in suppressed bass. “ That woman never dear friends who attended her receptions and balls, spoke to a man in her life without the fixed intention drank her champagne, ate her French dinners, waltzed | of making him fall in love with her.” in her magnificent salle de danse, and the next morn “ And she usually succeeds, does she not?” ventures ing, in boudoir and parlor, with smiling malice picked Mrs. Midget. her reputation to pieces by way of reward.
“No indeed. All men are not Cyril Kings, thank Stories of her past career casting deep shadow upon Heaven! Mr. Peppercorn despises her, just as much her womanhood, gathering exaggeration as they went, as I do. I know it by his remarks." flew eagerly from lip to lip. Everything dubious was “I doubt if wives can always tell whom their husinsinuated of her, if not asserted. Everybody ques. | bands depise or otherwise — by their remarks." tioned or distrusted her, even while they followed and “Judge for yourself, not me, Mrs. Midget. I know flattered her; but because of distrust or even open ac- that Mr. Peppercorn despises that woman as he should. cusation, they did not flatter her or follow after her the I return her calls for one purpose only. If I see her less. Not to be able to show Mrs. Sutherland King's and speak with her, I can give her many a dig that I card of invitation, with its delicate tracery and ancient never could if I didn't. I've one ready for her now. crest, was to prove yourself“ not in society.” Nor did | And she will find her way here in a moment, you see!'