Recitations for the Social Circle Part 12

Be very sure it is the man you are in love with, and not the clothes he wears. Fortune and fas.h.i.+on are both so fickle it is foolish to take a stylish suit for better or worse.

If you intend to keep three servants after marriage, settle the matter beforehand. The man who is making love to you may expect you to do your own was.h.i.+ng.

Don't try to hurry up a proposal by carrying on a flirtation with some other fellow. Different men are made of different material, and the one you want might go off in a fit of jealousy and forget to come back.

If you have a love letter to write, do not copy it out of a "letter writer." If your young man ever happened to consult the same book he would know your sentiments were borrowed.

Don't marry a man to oblige any third person in existence. It is your right to suit yourself in the matter. But remember at the same time that love is blind, and a little friendly advice from one whose advice is worth having may insure you a lifetime of happiness, or prevent one of misery.

In love affairs always keep your eyes wide open, so that when the right man comes along you may see him.

When you see him you will recognize him and the recognition will be mutual.

If you have no fault to find with him personally, financially, conscientiously, socially, morally, politically, religiously, or in any other way, he is probably perfect enough to suit you, and you can afford to--

Believe in him; hope in him; love him; marry him!

WIDDER BUDD.

I'm fifty, I'm fair, and without a gray hair, An' I feel just ez young as a girl.

When I think o' Zerubbabel Lee, I declare It sets me all into a whirl.

Last night he waz here, an' I told him to "clear"-- An' my! How supprised he did look: Perhaps I wuz rash, but he's after my _cash_-- I see through his plans like a book.

Some offers I've had that I cannot call bad; There was Deacon Philander Breezee; I'd a sartin sed _Yes_, when he wanted a kiss, Ef he hadn't so fl.u.s.trated me.

It took me so quick that it felt like a kick-- I flew all to pieces at once; Sez I, "You kin go--I'm not wanting a beau;"

I acted, I know, like a dunce.

Sez he, ez he rose, "I hev come to propose."

I stopped him afore he began: Sez I, "You kin go, an' see Hepzibah Stow-- _I won't be tied down to a man_."

"Mariar," ses he, "Widder Tompkins an' me Kin strike up a bargain, I know; An', seein' ez we can't decide to agree, I guess that I hed better go."

He picked up his hat from the chair where it sat, An' solemnly started away.

Sez I, with a look that I'm _sure_ he mistook, "You're perfectly welcome to stay."

My face got ez red ez our old waggin-shed-- I thought for the land I should melt.

Sez he, "I am done. Good night, leetle one,"

I _wish_ he'd a known how I felt.

To-day, Isaac Beers, with his snickers and sneers, Whose face is ez ugly ez sin, Dropped in just to see about buyin' my steers, An' tickled the mole on my chin.

Sez I, "You jest quit; I don't like you a bit; You can't come your sawder on me.

You'd better behave till Jane's cold in her grave, Your manners is ruther too free."

When dear David died (sniff--sniff), ez I sot by his side (sniff--sniff); He ketched up my hand in his own (sniff--sniff); He squeezed it awhile (sniff--sniff), an' he sez with a smile (sniff--sniff), "You'll soon be a widder alone (sniff--sniff--sniff), An' when I am gone (sniff--sniff) don't you fuss an' take on (sniff--sniff) Like old Widder Dorothy Day (sniff--sniff).

Look out for your tin (sniff--sniff) if you marry agin (sniff--sniff), Nor throw your affections away (sniff--sniff--sniff)."

My children hev grown, an' have homes o' their own-- They're doin' ez well ez they can (_wipes her eyes and nose_): An' I'm gettin' sick o' this livin' alone-- I wouldn't mind havin' a man.

Fur David hez gone to the mansion above-- His body is cold in the ground, Ef you know of a man who would marry for love, Jest find him an' send him around.

HIS LAST COURT.

Old Judge Grepson, a justice of the peace, was never known to smile. He came to Arkansas years ago, and year after year, by the will of the voters, he held his place as magistrate. The lawyers who practiced in his court never joked with him, because every one soon learned that the old man never engaged in levity. Every morning, no matter how bad the weather might be, the old man took his place behind the bar which, with his own hands, he had made, and every evening, just at a certain time, he closed his books and went home. No one ever engaged him in private conversation, because he would talk to no one. No one ever went to his home, a little cottage among the trees in the city's outskirts, because he had never shown a disposition to make welcome the visits of those who even lived in the immediate vicinity. His office was not given him through the influence of "electioneering," because he never asked any man for his vote. He was first elected because, having been once summoned in a case of arbitration, he exhibited the executive side of such a legal mind that the people nominated and elected him. He soon gained the name of the "hard justice," and every lawyer in Arkansas referred to his decision. His rulings were never reversed by the higher courts. He showed no sentiment in decision. He stood upon the platform of a law which he made a study, and no one disputed him.

One day, a woman, charged with misdemeanor, was arraigned before him. "The old man seems more than ever unsteady," remarked a lawyer as the magistrate took his seat. "I don't see how a man so old can stand the vexation of a court much longer."

"I am not well to-day," said the Judge, turning to the lawyers, "and any cases that you may have you will please dispatch them to the best, and let me add, quickest of your ability."

Every one saw that the old man was unusually feeble, and no one thought of a scheme to prolong a discussion, for all the lawyers had learned to reverence him.

"Is this the woman?" asked the Judge. "Who is defending her?"

"I have no defence, your Honor," the woman replied. "In fact, I do not think I need any, for I am here to confess my guilt. No man can defend me,"

and she looked at the magistrate with a curious gaze. "I have been arrested on a charge of disturbing the peace, and I am willing to submit my case. I am dying of consumption, Judge, and I know that any ruling made by the law can have but little effect on me;" and she coughed a hollow, hacking cough, and drew around her an old black shawl that she wore. The expression on the face of the magistrate remained unchanged, but his eyelids dropped and he did not raise them when the woman continued:

"As I say, no man can defend me. I am too near that awful separation of soul and body. Years ago I was a child of brightest promise. I lived with my parents in Kentucky. Wayward and light-hearted, I was admired by all the gay society known in the neighborhood. A man came and professed his love for me. I don't say this, Judge, to excite your sympathy. I have many and many a time been drawn before courts, but I never before spoke of my past life."

She coughed again and caught a flow of blood on a handkerchief which she pressed to her lips. "I speak of it now because I know that this is the last court on earth before which I will be arraigned. I was fifteen years old when I fell in love with the man. My father said he was bad, but I loved him. He came again and again, and when my father said that he should come no more I ran away and married him. My father said I should never come home again. I had always been his pride and had loved him dearly, but he said that I must never again come to his home,--my home, the home of my youth and happiness. How I longed to see him. How I yearned to put my head on his breast. My husband became addicted to drink. He abused me. I wrote to my father, asking him to let me come home, but the answer that came was 'I don't know you!' My husband died--yes, cursed G.o.d and died! Homeless and wretched, and with my little boy I went out into the world. My child died, and I bowed down and wept over a pauper's grave. I wrote to my father again, but he answered: 'I know not those who disobey my commandments!' I turned away from that letter, hardened. I spurned my teachings. Now I am here."

Several lawyers rushed forward. A crimson stream flowed from her lips. They leaned her lifeless head back against the chair. The old magistrate had not raised his eyes; "Great G.o.d!" said a lawyer, "he is dead!"

The woman was his daughter.

THE DEAD DOLL.

BY MARGARET VANDEGRIFT.

You needn't be trying to comfort me--I tell you my dolly is dead!

There's no use in saying she isn't with a crack like that in her head; It's just like you said it wouldn't hurt much to have my tooth out, that day, And then, when the man 'most pulled my head off, you hadn't a word to say.

And I guess you must think I'm a baby, when you say you can mend it with glue, As if I didn't know better than that! Why, just suppose it was you?

You might make her look all mended--but what do I care for looks?

Why glue's for chairs and tables, and toys, and the backs of books!

My dolly! my own little daughter! Oh, but it's the awfullest crack!

It just makes me sick to think of the sound when her poor head went whack Against that horrible bra.s.s thing that holds up that little shelf.

Now, Nursey, what makes you remind me? I know that I did it myself?

I think you must be crazy--you'll get her another head!