180 THUS FADING ON. THE SPIRIT OF AUTUMN.
"Thank you so much, Harry, for taking me, " said Mrs. Morton, on coming out. " I will confess, now, that, at first, I didn't care to go. I was very tired : quite worn- out, in fact. But you are always so kind that I thought it would be ungenerous not to do as you asked me. I am glad I came. It has rested me, strange to say, more even than sitting idle at home would have done. It has acted like a tonic. I think it has been the change. One does get dreadfully stupid, if one never hears music or sees other people. But here we are at home. I hope baby has been good."
Baby had been good. Sarah was watching, by his crib when his mother came in.
A few days after, as Mr. Morton was leaving, in the morning, he said,
"What would you like to read, my dear. You must often be lonely, kept in all day, as you frequently are."
"But books cost so much now," answered his wife.
The husband answered,
"Doctors cost more. Out of spirits, out of health, you know, is one of my mottoes. Tell me what you would like, and I will buy it for you. I don't intend to ruin myself on books you, as you know, " he continued, stooping to kiss her; "but while I indulge myself in segars, I think you ought to be indulged in books, at least to a moderate degree.
Mrs. Morton mentioned a new book which had just appeared.
"I will stop and get it as I go down town, so as to be sure and not forget it ; otherwise some business matter might drive it out of my head before night."
"Ah! you men are so often worried with business. I wish we women could help you."
"You do help us, darling. The cheerful smile, the cozy room, the nice supper that await us on our return at night, soon dissipate the worries of the day. It's like coming into a Paradise to get back at evening. "
"But, sometimes, you know, we have been worried also: and then the smile, perhaps, is not quite so bright; though we don't mean to make it a bit less so, for all that."
"We know you don't, darling. No true husband ever visits his business disappointments on his wife; no true wife ever wishes to make her husband suffer because her servants have vexed her."
If all husbands were like Mr. Morton, and all wives like Mrs. Morton, how happy thousands and thousands of families would be!
THUS FADING ON.
BY MARIE S. LADD.
THROUGH childhood's opening hours we glide,
With radiant brow and tender feet;
With love we look on all we meet,
And hope is high whate'er betide.
A passing cloud may bring us pain;
But youthful hearts beat quick and light
To break the gloom that dims the sight,
And hope and joy is ours again.
And youth builds high its palace walls,
And decks them o'er with nice caprice;
To fate, then, signs an armistice
For low the treacherous fabric falls.
And thus we weave a magic spell,
Wrought fair with hopes too bright to wear;
And when the years bring grief and care,
The heart beats dumbly, like a knell.
So, fading on, our bright dreams go,
And o'er our way the shadows fall,
Till o'er the heart a dreary pull
Glooms all that once had charmed us so.
THE SPIRIT OF AUTUMN.
BY ZELIA GERTRUDE GREY.
SLOWLY the Spirit of Autumn
Was passing everywhere,
Caressing with cold, damp fingers
Everything sweet and fair.
Softly the Spirit of Autumn
Was borne on the North wind's breath,
Kissing each beautiful blossom--
Alas! the cold kiss was death!
Beneath my window were growing
Flowers, scarlet, blue and gold;
I plead with the restless spirit
To pass by my little fold.
One night, when the moon was shining
Brightly on vine and flower,
The wandering Spirit of Autumn
Came with its subtle power.
Pale lips tonched the yielding blossoms,
And bowed each beautiful head;
The morning showed me my treasures,
Blighted, and faded, and dead!
