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 " V ^- '^ ^'^'*'' VILLE, KY. 
 VIIARLE,^ T. DEARINd 
 1«95, 
 
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 Copyright, 1895. 
 
THE LATEST FAD, 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Tliu SHOW has melted, the ice has broken on 
 the river, and the sun shines warm and bright. 
 I love the warmth and seek the light with joy 
 — seek it early with fondest hope, for I have 
 slumbered in a gentle breast and dreamed 
 sweet dreams of golden and crimson rays. 
 
 Have I been timid^ No, I have been cau- 
 tious; from sacred involucre that has shielded 
 my heart I have slowly pushed once, twice, 
 thrice a delicate, quinate leaf, and the fresh 
 wind, that gave me name, has fanned my 
 petaloid calyx to a dreamy unfolding that I 
 may look up to the gloriously bright sky, and 
 I am called Anemone. 
 
 This is a beautiful world and a jolly go-lucky 
 old town that has tried to cast off its provincial 
 ways, even as I have burst through the crust 
 and aspire to higher things. The smoke that 
 curls above is gray, but it is fantastic; there is 
 a glow of sunlight on many spires, and glinting 
 rays and shadows below that whirl and waltz 
 together; there is a soft splash from the river 
 and a twittering of birds that is heard like an 
 
iv INTEOBUCTION. 
 
 uiulertone amid musical bells and reverberating 
 whistles. Are there warmer skies, or brighter 
 lights? I question. "Yes! jesi" the wind 
 whispers, but expanding my corolla until the 
 silky vestment can bear no greater strain, I 
 answer back for him to bear far away, — "It 
 can not be, for this is Louisville, and Louis- 
 ville is my homel^' 
 
 There is a great burst of sounds, a whirring 
 of wheels, a buzzing of saws and the tram- 
 pling of many feet, but each has a voice of its 
 own to me; there is something new of which 
 all would speak — just a fad for a time-honored 
 mother. The breaking ice thundered it forth, 
 and when it melted away the murmuring waves 
 caught up the refrain; it resounds in the bells, 
 is echoed in the footsteps, falls with each trip- 
 hammer, and winds with circular saws; half- 
 fledged sparrows twitter it from the eaves, it is 
 whispered by rustling silk on counters spread, 
 and comes from club-houses in tinkling tones 
 of silver and glass; the frogs by the river are 
 hoarsely croaking it, dainty lips are appeal- 
 ingly calling for it, even the silvery notes of 
 the cricket on each hearth, like a little Tuba 
 amid greater horns, keeps constantly singing, 
 "Tell the truth! Tell the truth! It is Louis- 
 ville's latest Fad!" 
 
CHAPTER L 
 
 MUSINGS. 
 
 Golden bars of lio;lit form ladders for shin- 
 ing step-ways upward. How pure it must be 
 above the odor of the earth I Still this is a 
 charming old world, its dust is heaped in so 
 many shapely forms that lure the fancy and 
 fetter the heart, and the denizens of this town 
 on the river are not all climbing higher. 
 
 There is a heaven over all, I have heard it 
 said, and just below it an atmospheric realm 
 where all with wings may soar, and 1 have 
 been told, too, that all mortals may have pin- 
 ions and tiy away to joys celestial if they but 
 obey One whose light is the life of all, yet 
 they are content here. I cannot mount higher, 
 but I crave that light; it brought me from dark- 
 ness to-day. I know there is another realm 
 below me, for it was once my home, and dark- 
 ness reigns there evermore, yet it is fraught 
 with life and hope and beauty, and those who 
 were my friends there are all seeking the light. 
 I knew and loved them, nurtured in the same 
 bosom. I knew their hopes and aspirations, 
 their sorrows jind weaknesses, even as they 
 
() THE LATEST FAD. 
 
 knew mine, and in the proper season I know 
 tliey will all come to the lio^ht. Oh I w\\y do 
 not men mount higher too? 
 
 We of that dark sphere have an unspoken 
 language with a meaning all our own, and a 
 moral law, too, so that we bespeak ourselves 
 just what we are. There is one who above 
 the crust, after many others have bloomed and 
 faded, lifts his head proudly, and though he 
 hath not lips to move, he hath a mein that pro- 
 claims solemnly, 
 
 •'Truth needs no flowers of speech.*" 
 
 Were he human he would be a nobleman 
 among men, as he is a peer in the Flower Land, 
 in whose soft hush words are not language. 
 Mortals call him White Chrysanthemum. 
 
 People are like flowers, and there are all 
 sorts from the hot-house to the field; sometimes 
 when they smile I see them look like petals 
 softly touched by the wind, and I see, too, 
 frowns that dwarf and shrivel, and sorrows 
 that have crippled form and fancy like a flower 
 crushed by a heedless foot, or withered by 
 drouth, or the worm at the core, and I am sad 
 oft-times because it is the fairest that is 
 blighted. Nor do mortals need words to be- 
 speak them what they are; they are but walking 
 
MUSINGS. . 1 
 
 stalks hooded, capped, or petaled, each with 
 an einblein (it is a thonglit not new, perhaps, 
 but tVuo) actions and faces speak witliout tlie 
 C'orn-cockle's hmguage to tell where there is 
 '^niore beauty than worth." 
 
 I have seen one in this city who steps lightly 
 in his mundane walk; I have noted all his folly, 
 and observed all that lifts him above his incon- 
 sistency. He has easy grace, and many 
 charming costumes, and when I see him raise 
 his head haughtily, only to bow graciously, I 
 watch the tiickering light on his smooth cheeks 
 and the fringe-like hair parted in the middle 
 with dainty yet careless touch, and I know 
 that he is a human Carnation, that he hath 
 that ''haughty spirit that goeth before a fall." 
 
 1 heard his musings, and I am sure he has 
 lieard some sounds to which 1 have listened. 
 He was alone in quarters such as bachelors 
 love, in faultless smoking-jacket and cap, and 
 the smoke that puffed above his lazy head 
 took many a cue and turn like the thoughts in 
 the bewildered pate it enveloped. Those 
 thoughts would have been bright and fanciful 
 enough, only he tried to stupefy them by his 
 own indifference. 
 
 "Gad! 1 have done everything a fellow — ah 
 (even thoughts can drawl) wants to do — ah. 
 
S THE LATEST FAD. 
 
 1 have gone every gait, I imagine. Have liad 
 coats from shortest sacks to cUiw-haramers, 
 ])antaloons like bags, and pantaloons as tig) it 
 as Mephistopheles could bear 'em. Neckties 
 have been Windsor, stock, or four-in-hand, 
 whatever the goddess decreed; I have gone 
 barehanded, have gloried in the precisest 
 gloves, have had box toes, gondolas, and 
 tooth-picks on my wretched feet; have studied 
 stripes and checks in variation until my eyes 
 twitched and my head swam; have carried a 
 cane with a head heavier than my own, and 
 once a watch guard that would answer for a log- 
 chain. IVe been crammed into corners, have 
 sat behind theatre hats, have quietly watched 
 pug puppies get kisses while I have got none; 
 IVe been sat upon by boarding-house keepers, 
 and hoodood by hackmen, and have tried to 
 bear it all with the spirit of a man; IVe been 
 to Hower shows, dog shows, and even the 
 Gallimaufry, and my courage failed not, but at 
 last— the deuce take it! 1 am out of the count 
 and clear out of the fashion, (down went the 
 ])ipe, ashes and all) for I can't tell the truth!" 
 
IVY A VENUE. 
 
 CPIAPTER J I. 
 
 TYY AVENUE. 
 
 Tliere is many n way and many a turn in 
 tliis merry town for tlie lieavy tread as well as 
 the light trip, trip, but none like one I will 
 mention. Fourth they say in rotation, bnt 
 when four is meant lY is often written; what 
 is i-Y but I-vy, when pronunciation is made^ 
 Then in the term that I know Ivy Avenue let it 
 be with a language of its own — "Nothing can 
 part us'' — for what has ever parted long my 
 sweet girlish flowers from the pretty Ivy trail, 
 evergreen and fresh in its own bower, and 
 evergreen and fresh in their thoughts and 
 memories. 
 
 I have seen many flower-like faces come and 
 go on Ivy Avenue. Hot- house Roses, Wild 
 Violets, even the common little Field Daisy, 
 with the sorrowing Myrtle, but three have 
 often come together that I love to watch. 
 They have fluttered as the air flutters the petals 
 on a rose, and whispered like a fairy's eolian 
 strain played by the night wind on the stamens 
 of a lily. They have admired with ecstasies of 
 delight Easter cards and flowers, have sought 
 
10 THE LA TEST FA 1). 
 
 out with eyes as briglit as periwinkles the lat- 
 est modes and the catcliy fads, and thej are 
 admired by all, tor do they not bring a breath 
 of this bright spring as they walkif Oh! they 
 are so dainty and so sweet I How their 
 godets shimmer in light and shade, rustling 
 together like newly budded leaves! How 
 their ribbons gleam like the tinted waves of 
 color that deck the sunset sky! my three 
 charming ones! And all have seen them (for 
 their homes are right here in this dear old 
 town) my Hyacinth, my Snowdrop, my White 
 Moss Rose. 
 
 My Hyacinth is tall and fair, and this new 
 spring light loves to hide in her shining hair, 
 burnished with gold. She has wanted for 
 ncnhing through all her dainty tripping on this 
 crust the Howers break through. She had an 
 ancestor who has been mentioned in many 
 books. Who has not heard of that charming 
 Hyacinthus whom Zephyrus slew I Her family 
 is still among the first; it has known the high- 
 est culture for years and years, and she is 
 called an heiress because she has heired all the 
 good gifts conferred upon it. She can afford 
 to be erect, and she will never bend without 
 breaking; that is why she has broken so many 
 hearts, and her own heart — ah! I have seen 
 
IVY AVENUE. 11 
 
 wliat is in it, my frao-raiit one, hut I will 
 wliisper it softly, she is not iilwiiy.s hai)))y: slic 
 is jealous — jealousy, alas! is tlie (Mnhlcjii <»f 
 herself and of her kindred. 
 
 My little Snowdrop, is small, her face is 
 pearly white, and her eyes so gentle have a 
 pink shade creeping over an azure blue, blend- 
 ing to purple in their earnest depth, and, like 
 a dew-drop on a bud, you can read her ])ure 
 thoughts through and through, but hers is a 
 courageous little heart. Her forefathers have 
 braved many storms, and written their names 
 on famous fields, and her language is as true 
 as unspoken words can be; it is the unspoken 
 stealing imperceptibly to the senses that is 
 always truth, while noisy utterances, we who 
 listen in silence know may be but boasting. 
 Hers is no vain boasting, as with white chiseled 
 features turned to the light she mutely tells, 
 '^I am no summer friend.'' 
 
 My White Moss Rose — see the grace if she 
 droops her head I see the radiance if she lifts 
 her face! She has lived in ease, has been loved 
 and petted, sorrow has been but a mist that the 
 warm sun rolled back in a cloudlet veil to un- 
 fold her beauty. She has a name of wdiich 
 she may be proud the world over, and a kin- 
 dred of unsullied honor of whom she is ne'er 
 
12 THE LATEST FAD. 
 
 asliamed to speak. She can bend ajracioiisly, 
 but slie can haughtily sway back, and slie is 
 not afraid; her insight is clear, her response 
 (juick, her cleverness (like the silky, emerald- 
 liued moss drooping over the stem) hides what 
 intuitively she knows until the polished thorn 
 of her repartee strikes her offender. True! 
 true! my peerless! The soundless music of 
 floral tongue to fathomless senses sends a cease- 
 less thrill — '-Thou art one of a thousand.'' 
 
 One special day I saw this trio glide the 
 evergreen trail of Ivy, and the breath of the 
 passage was perfume; and I heard it said by 
 others, "The lilies of the field, they toil not, 
 neitlier do they spin, yet Solomon in all his 
 glory was not arrayed like one of these,'' and 
 I knew it was so. They bowed and smiled, 
 and met many who bowed and smiled in return. 
 
 One they met was tall and erect, and his 
 eyes shone like stars with a (juick flash of 
 white light in a dark purple iris. He was 
 greeted with dimples that came and went in 
 velvet-petaled cheeks like the sunbeams love 
 to come and go in a garden of flowers, and 
 when he spoke little Snow^drop drooped her 
 head, and a hue like the first rosy light of 
 dawn spread over her face, then it was I felt a 
 pain 1 could hardly define for I knew him well; 
 
IVY AVJ^NUE. • i:{ 
 
 I liavL' met liini often— the showy Sweet-Will iani. 
 AhisI "A man may smile and be avillain too/' 
 
 He claims kinship with Carnation, and far 
 back, I believe, they did have a common an- 
 cestor, but Carnation is not proud of it. He 
 has a relation, though, whom I know — the 
 Wild-sweet-william — unwelcome in garden, 
 field, or border; tenacious ever, but never val- 
 iant, he iiees a storm and blooms in drouthy 
 August; his habits are scanty, his means lim- 
 ited, so he dwells among rocks and where the 
 soil is poorest. 
 
 Ah! my poor little Snowdrop, the grandest 
 Sweet-william was ne'er fit for thy mate. Let 
 him bow his presumptuous head on his coarse, 
 fibrous stem and pass on his way. He knows 
 by-paths that you know not, and fiaunts him- 
 self in places where you would wither. He is 
 showy, but a silver fiask can hold a fiery fiuid, 
 and polished cards when trumps may insinuate 
 as much fraud as the commonest paste-board. 
 His gaudy jewelry is his insignia, his showy 
 clothes the regalia of his order, for pools are 
 pools wherever bought. It was said of old, 
 'Hipon his vesture they cast lots," and the 
 wind of chance has scattered that seed through 
 every generation. Oh I let him go, my little 
 darling, let him go I 
 
14 THE LATEST FA I). 
 
 True, tliu fuiuily of Diiiiitliiis, of wliicli lie is 
 a scion, had many wortliy branches, but think 
 of the species and not of tlie genus. It is a 
 hiw of dear old Botanj that, that which hath 
 thorns, or scales, or habits peculiarly its own 
 must be considered a se])arate tribe. Sweet- 
 william can never be a Carnation, nor a China- 
 pink, tliough some kind of cousin to them, lie 
 might have represented a branch as worthy as 
 they, (Gerarde spoke well of his fathers) but 
 we only know now that 
 
 ''be smiles and is a villain." 
 
 I heard springing foot-steps overtaking the 
 dainty trio, and I smiled when I recognized the 
 one who approached. It was Carnation; he 
 hurried that he might speak before they en- 
 tered the carriage waiting for them, but he 
 arrived just when they were seated, and laid 
 his hand on the shining varnish of the door U) 
 stay them, or that old Berberry, the coach man , 
 ("a sour temper is no slight evil") would have 
 driven away. Coachmen always tire of wait- 
 ing, I believe, I have been told. 
 
 Carnation was not alone, a youth with a 
 silky down on chin and cheeks, who is seen 
 here, there and everywhere, was with him. He 
 is called Dandelion, and below the crust it is 
 
71')' A VENUE. L") 
 
 said tliiit lie intrudes, lie was in liis own 
 colors, tor Carnation would have eluded liim if 
 he could. 
 
 It is happiness to stand with one foot on a 
 carriage step with three such iiowers within, 
 and Carnation realized it, but Dandelion did 
 not so much enjoy leaning against the door in 
 the background, although he peeped under the 
 fringe straight into White Moss Rose's face. 
 She is the chosen one of his budding affections, 
 but alasl she is the choice, too, (as all Louis- 
 ville knows) of Carnation's full-blown hope. 
 
 Hyacinth looked ill at ease, and grew rest- 
 less like a Hower starting and trembling when 
 some foreign insect invades its perianth and 
 makes it quiver — Carnation, the handsomest 
 man in town, did not bow his perfumed head 
 in acknowledgement of her charms, but sought, 
 ever, her fair rival. 
 
 Of what were they talking? Not of poetry, 
 niusic and art, great w^ords and hard words ex- 
 press all that. A silent How like my own 
 sweet language sparkled a moment in his eyes, 
 and then went straight to a mossy depth, was 
 placidly received and softly covered, while, all 
 the time the lips of these mortal plants rattled 
 of joyous themes and tinkled with merry 
 laughter. 
 
1() THE LATEIST FAD. 
 
 Why should they not speak of the new f<ul, 
 too'^ The soutli wind that had just borne a 
 message to tlie Signal Service Corps (whom, 
 we admit, it has sometimes deceived), high on 
 the Custom House, whispered as it lightly 
 skipped by, "Tell the truth!" The clock on 
 the City Hall rang out, and in the chime was 
 plainly heard, "Tell the truth I" The bargain 
 counters behind each window decked in spring's 
 gayest charms groaned audibly beneath their 
 burdens, "Tell the truth!'' The massive 
 printing press in the Courier-Journal basement, 
 although it does not always practice what it 
 preaches, hummed and wheezed then snorted, 
 "Tell the truth!" The light shimmered on 
 the cross at the top of the Cathedral spire, and 
 like an evanescent sprite, glinted across roofs 
 and walls, and though lent is passed, wrote in 
 letters varied and unique on bricks and gran- 
 itoid, "Tell the truth!" 
 
 So when Carnation vowed by all he held 
 most sacred, even by that gold-rimmed eye- 
 glass treasured in a pocket near his heart that 
 it would take lens of greater power than any 
 he had ever worn to discover a pleasure in 
 Louisville, and he perforce must go away quite 
 soon. White Moss Rose, knowing that the 
 language of his lips and his eyes made a cross 
 
IVY AVENUE. 17 
 
 slie could not reverence, and tliat lie would 
 pi(|ue her into betrayal of feeling if lie could, 
 laughed, and drew the fragrance of her own 
 thoughts closer into the secret corolla of wom- 
 an's stronghold for pent-up emotion, and bade 
 him think of Miss Poppy Variegated, one 
 whose iiirtations, she knew, were many, and 
 whose arts, he had often declared, were pow- 
 erless to move him. Cruel White Moss Rose 
 knew, too, that it wounded his self-approbation 
 to refer him to such a one, so she pricked again 
 by adding, 
 
 "You could not tear yourself from her, you 
 know, so tell the truth, if it does not shock 
 your system, it will only put you in the fashion, 
 it is Louisville's latest fad." 
 
 He lifted his hat, and set it farther back on 
 the colossal crown of what men in this town 
 call intellect, and questioned, 
 
 "Could Louisville bear the truth? Might 
 not the dear old city of the falls sicken and 
 shrivel away at exigency so unexpected ? How 
 dare I say to men, your politics is a blank, 
 your religion all a fraud; your candidates, bold 
 and brazen, their villainy cannot hide, and your 
 preachers, oft as not, wear an armor of the 
 softest, whitest wool ( Would it do to wake 
 up the School-board 'i or, shake up Aldermen 
 
18 THE LATENT FAD. 
 
 ill their seats? or, refer to iimiiicipal rights 
 wlieii 1 have power only to speak? What 
 would become of our city officers? where would 
 be the city archives we have prized ? or, if I 
 could be bold enough to proclaim it, that Lou- 
 isville is more provincial than metropolitan, 
 that her ideas are the same that Clarke shipped 
 down the river, what would the rabble do with 
 me? If I say her wasted energy has floated 
 away in smoke, that her ambition has caught 
 its pinions in the wires that cage her in, or 
 that she is one big bird house for sparrows — 
 sparrows human, and sparrows on the wing, 
 sparrows that walk, and some that talk, content, 
 all, with their own broods, and thinking nothing 
 of to-morrow, could my own reputation stand? 
 Or suppose I say she is an overgrown wart on 
 the top of Kentucky's sleepy old head? or at 
 best an old, old fossil in the Ohio's forsaken 
 channel.? 
 
 "This fad has come too suddenly, practice 
 has made us perfect in another art, and ready 
 adaptation lias made fiction seem like truth; it 
 has become second nature, and it is hard to 
 change our spots. I realize my own condition: 
 it has blighted my hopes and embittered my 
 dreams. 1 have not the courage to again take 
 up duty. Ah! send me to the wild West and 
 
IVY AVENUE. 19 
 
 let me tight IndiMiis; let me go in pursuit of 
 the lost Grail, or in some far away seclusion 
 let me write a biography of Melchizeclek, but 
 do not bid me live contrary to my own na- 
 ture. My am.bition is thwarted, my plans are 
 all disarranged, I am not what I have striven 
 to be, verily I am no longer a fashionable 
 man — I cannot tell the truth I'' 
 
 He drew his hat over his eyes and turned 
 aside. Dandelion released his hold on the 
 carriage door, and it moved slowly away. 
 
20 THE LATEST FAD. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE TRUTH AT LAST. 
 
 There is iiii awful clatter, a rumbling and a 
 shaking I ne'er have felt before. The bells 
 are all ringing, the whistles are blowing, the 
 children are crying and the news-boys bawling. 
 Oh! such dreadful, dreadful things have hap- 
 pened. 
 
 The town has been rent in twain, and great 
 branching chasms are widening in every street. 
 The City Hall is turned inside out; the Court 
 House stands on end; the Evening Post has 
 gone down into the hole where it stood; 
 the Sunday Truth has faded away; the Com- 
 mercial uttered but one groan ere it depart- 
 ed; the Times office is on lire, and every 
 editor of the Courier-Journal is on the roof 
 trying to wait with composure for his own 
 wings. The Custom House is rocking, iind 
 the Signal Service says a tornado is here. It 
 cannot be helped, this unsuspecting town has 
 brought sorrow upon its own head. The truth 
 has been told. 
 
THE TIWTH AT LAST. 21 
 
 Old Miss Zinnia, the pnidisli old soul, has 
 offended Mrs. Hollyhock by saying she is am- 
 bitious only of show. Mrs. Narcissus lias 
 hurt Mrs. Sage's feelings by telling her, that 
 although they were school-mates and friends, 
 and slie would not wound her for the world, 
 she thinks it would be best for young Sage not 
 to call too often on her daughter. Mrs. Myrtle 
 lias given a tea and invited only her particular 
 friends; a more select circle really than any one 
 imagined. Miss Touch-me-not called on Miss 
 Peach-blossom, she was at home, but could re- 
 ceive no one that day; Mrs. Snap-dragon ven- 
 tured consolation, "Would she be exactly in 
 the fashion,'" she snapped, "why didn't she 
 say, she did not want to see youT' "I would 
 appreciate courtesy more," retorted Miss 
 Touch-me-not; "she might have had the grace 
 to say she was not at home." 
 
 Major Larkspur told Mrs. Sweet- pea, that 
 charming young widow, that Col. Snow-ball 
 has ever lived a useless life, and when Col. 
 Snow-ball heard it, he said Larkspur is a fickle 
 soul, who last year thought as much of the 
 widow Tulip as he now professes to think of 
 another. Mrs. Sweet-pea does not speak to 
 either now, and if it ever comes to be the fad 
 they will doubtless have a duel. 
 
22 THE LATEST FAD. 
 
 Mrs. Thistle had told all her neighbors that 
 she never did like children, and Mrs. Night- 
 shade does not believe her because she has a 
 son no one conld help liking. 
 
 Young Heliotrope fondly laid his heart at 
 Miss Variegated Pink's feet, and she flatly re- 
 fused him to accept that bachelor, Goldenrod. 
 Miss Geranium, burning with envy, said, 
 "Only an old country squire witii money to 
 encourage liim.'" 
 
 Carnation was in sore distress, he met White 
 Moss Rose on Ivy Avenue and she bowed 
 coldly. He laid his hand on his heart, and 
 said many times, "It is all over!" 
 
 Then he met Hyacinth, she knew the true 
 state of aff-airs, and thinking it her auspicious 
 hour, smiled and tried to attract him. He 
 knew she would offer him balm for all his 
 woes if he would only receive it, and he looked 
 down deep in his heart and asked the question, 
 
 "C'ould I give up White Moss Rose and 
 ever be happy with another?" and his lieart 
 spoke the truth in answer, 
 
 "No! no!" 
 
 Then he laid his hand on his breast to still 
 the tumult the truth hath aroused, and allowed 
 her to pass in a jealous rage that almost turned 
 her yelh)w, while he murmured to himself, 
 
TUB TRUTH AT LAST. 2:i 
 
 "I will make an effort; I will siiniinon all 
 my strength and speak the truth, too." 
 
 He walked fast, but his heart beat faster. 
 He went to White Moss Rose's home and 
 called for her. 
 
 She swayed back and forth pliantly, and 
 smiles rippled all over her face when she 
 greeted him, but he was afraid of those little 
 polished thorns, and the fear made him stam- 
 mer, yet he told her at last, 
 
 "I love you," and he pleaded with deepest 
 emotion; '*be my own White Moss Rose — my 
 one in a thousand." 
 
 She smiled, and that smile was a keen little 
 brier that darted to his cheeks and made them 
 burn. Then she spoke and he felt like a 
 thousand prickles were encasing him. 
 
 ''Of course I appreciate all you have said, 
 and am proud of the honor you would confer, 
 but we are not congenial, our ideas and pursuits 
 vary. You are not a fashionable man, you 
 have confessed it to me and to others, and I 
 could not so offend my friends, nor my own 
 judgment by linking my fate with one who 
 .ignores the latest fashion." 
 
 He bowed in silence, he had not the courage 
 to urge what an effort, speaking the truth she 
 disreojarded. had cost him. 
 
24 THE LATEST FAD. 
 
 He went out, and never before did a Carna^ 
 tion so droop with anguish. The haughty 
 spirit had received a fall. 
 
THE FAD nmVAlLS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE FAD PREAAILS. 
 
 Peace reigns once more. There have been 
 repairs, exphinations, and tears, and the rents 
 the spring paint does not cover the Easter 
 tiowers do. This is like a city tliat has come 
 out of mourning; so many tiresome ciiains 
 have been snapped the very air seems redolent 
 of freedom. The truth has been told, there 
 is nothing more to dread. 
 
 There is one to whom happiness did not 
 come as soon as to others. He walked the 
 streets, and where the great rifts had been he 
 saw that it was cemented anew, but there was 
 a rift in his heart that nothing healed; he had 
 spoken the truth, but he had received no re- 
 sponse to gladden him. 
 
 Poor Carnation grew pale and thin; his ap- 
 pearance was commented upon by all who 
 knew him, yet no one held forth a friendly 
 hand to assist him uiitil Snow-dro]) in kind- 
 ness said to him: 
 
 ''You are not happy. Carnation." 
 
2(1 THE LA TEST FA I). 
 
 '•AhisI I can never be again,'' he answered 
 mournfully. 
 
 ■ "Yes, I think there is hope for you," she 
 said gently. "I know why you grieve; your 
 truth was not accepted because you had said 
 you could not tell the truth; now it is known 
 you were in earnest there is another regrets 
 she did not speak the truth, too. White Moss 
 Rose does not hold her head so erect, it droops 
 on a pliant stem, and I have seen drops like 
 freshly distilled dew on her white petals, and I 
 know that she mourns for something." 
 
 He lifted his bowed head and faintly smiled. 
 
 She left him, and again he hastily sought 
 White Moss Rose. Her manner was so sub- 
 dued he was no longer afraid of a sting. 
 
 "Will the truth never prevail," he asked 
 anxiously. 
 
 "It has prevailed," she answered softly, 
 "this is a wonderfully changed city." 
 
 Pie sighed and regarded her long and ear- 
 nestly, and she did not shrink from him, then 
 their heads slowly swayed together and they 
 clasped hands while the dew-drops she had re- 
 strained 'neath the creamy, curling petals 
 gushed forth shining like diamonds as they 
 dropped, and he knew his truth was accepted 
 foi-evermore. 
 
ANTICIPA TION.S. 27 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ANTIOIPATIONS. 
 
 My emblem is anticipation. My friends say 
 I have the happy faculty of brightly foreshad- 
 owing the future. It is a great pleasure now, 
 for this old town is a garden full of sweet 
 posies; I see them grouped all around me, and 
 1 smile oftener than 1 sigh. 
 
 •' As time rolls along- many changes it brings 
 In fashions and fancies, in men and in things.'' 
 
 Oh! but there'll be changes here, and will 
 not people stare ? 
 
 Madam Cactus, who has talked of divorce so 
 long and fluently will get it, and we'll see her 
 no more. 
 
 Widow Catch-fly, who was a bride one year 
 before last, will be a bride again before the 
 snow comes, and Canterbury-bells will be a 
 liappy man. 
 
 A Daftodil will console a sorely wounded 
 Hyacinth, and White Moss Rose will be a 
 bridesmaid before she is a bride (just to show 
 
2S THE LATEST FAD. 
 
 the triitli did not cut, you know, ) but she will 
 be a bride when Chrysanthemums bloom. 
 
 And Snowdrop— ah! who will warn my ])()or 
 little Snowdrop of the cloud that will come and 
 blow away ere the Holly and Mistletoe are 
 hung on the wall. The shadow will be thick, 
 but through the first break will be seen a dark- 
 eyed stranger, the Cinnamon Rose, and she 
 will be consoled with the purest emblem of all, 
 ''Such as I am receive me; would I were more 
 for your sake/' 
 
 Madam Kettle will say some ugly things 
 that will raise a little row, but Master Nastur- 
 tion (honor to the brave) will boldly defend 
 the "Legion/' 
 
 Oh! there'll be changes in fashion, in times, 
 and in people. 
 
 Theater hats will humbler grow; bonds will 
 set us on our feet, and rusty vault locks will 
 turn again. It's a jolly, good people who 
 don't care what their grand-children do thirty 
 years from now. Let the sun shine! let the 
 bonds iiy! we'll be happy while we may. We 
 have been cold and hungry, but now, 
 
 •'Oh! won't we have a jolly time I 
 OhI won't we have a jolly time! 
 .Tei'usha put the kettle on. 
 Well all take tea." 
 
ANTICIPA TIONS. 2!) 
 
 Some new ])e()})le will come, and some we 
 know will go, {incl there is "the grass of the 
 field, that to-day is and to-morrow will be cut 
 down" — yes, whisper it softly, it is the com- 
 mon fate of all, and some soon will be cut 
 down. 
 
 Yet let us sing a wordless song for the mo- 
 ments drifting by, and gather up the sunbeams 
 while we may; there is yet life in the land, and 
 the flowers are coming. Yes, they will all 
 come, but the Orange flowers will drift the 
 highest, far, far above the funeral wreaths, 
 like drifts of pure white snow, for the truth 
 has been told. The truth has ueen told I 
 
 [The Knd.] 
 
iSmmL?^ CONGRESS 
 
 015 971 598 A