TWO KINDS OF WOMEN.

Wellington Independent, Volume XXVIII, Issue 397, 11 December 1873, Page 3

TWO KINDS OF WOMEN.

We once knew a man who married a ■poiled beauty, whose murmurs, exactions and caprices were infinite. He had at last as a refuge to his wearied nerves, settled down into a habit of utter disregard and neglect ; he treated her wishes and her complaint? with equal indifference, and went on with bis life as nearly as possible aa if she did not exist. He silent y provided for her what he thought proper, without troubling himself to notice her requests or listen to her grievances. Sickness came, but the heart of her husband was cold and gone j there was no sympathy left to warm her. Death came, and he breathed freely as a man released. He married again — a woman with no beauty, but much love and goodness — a woman who asked little, blamed seldom, and then with all the tact and address which the utmost thoughtfulness could devise ; and the passive, negligent husband became the attentive, devoted slave of her will. He was in her hands as clay in tbe hands of the potter ; tbe least breath or suggestion of criticism from her lips, who oriticieed so little and so thoughtfully, weighed more with him than many outspoken words. So different is the same human being, according to the touch of the hand which plays upon him.

" Noi much he kens, I ween, of woman's breast , Who thinks that wanton thing is won by sighs." HAVING A PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN .

(From the "Danbury News." Having a photograph taken is one of the great events in a man's life. The chief desire is to look the very beat, and on the eucoeaa of the picture hinges, in many cases, the most important epoch in life. To work up a proper appearance time enough is used, which if de> voted to catching fleas for their phosphorous, would^ cancel the entire national debt and establish a dpily paper. When you have completed jour 'toilet you go to the gallery and force yourself into a nonchalance of expression that is too absurd for anything. Then you take the chair, spread your legs gracefully, appropriate a calm and indifferent look, and commence toperspire. An attenuated man with a pale face, long hair, and a soiled nose now comes out of a oavern, and adjusts the camera. Then he goes back of you and tells you to Bit back aB far as you oan in the chair, and that it has been a remarkably backward sprin". After getting you back till your spine interferes with the chair itself, he slioves your head into a pair of iceßtones, and dashes at the camera again. Here, with a piece of discolored velvet over his head, he bombardß you in this manner : " Your chin out a little, please." The chin protruded. " That's nicely } now a little more." The chin advances again, and the pomade commences to melt and start for freedom. Then he comes back to you and slapß one of your hands on your leg in Buch a position as to give you the appearance of trying to lift it overhead. The other is turned under itself, and becomes so sweaty that you begin to fear that it will stick there permanently. A new stream of pomade finds itß way out, and starts downward. Then he shakes your head in the tongs till it settles right, and says it looks like rain, and puts your ohm out again, and punches out your chest, and says he doesn't know what the poor are to do next winter, unless there id a radical change in affaire, and then takes the top of your head in one hand and your ohm the other, and gives your neck a wrenoh that would earn any other man a prominent position in a new hospital. Then he runs his hand through your hair, and scratches your scalp, and steps back to the camera and the injured velvet for another look. By this time new sweat and pomade have started out. The whites of your eyes chow unpleasantly, and your whole body feels as if it had been visited by aa enormous cramp, and another and muoh bigger one wag momentarily expected. Then he points at something for you to look at } tells you to look cheerful and composed, and snatches away the velvet and pulls out his watch. When he gets tired, and you feel aa if there was but very little left in thin world to live for, he restores the velvet, says it is an unfavorable day fora picture, hut h« hopea for the best, and immediately disappears in hi»

den. Then you get up and stretch yourself, slap on your hat, and immediately sneak home, feeling mean, humbled, and altogether too wretched for description. The first friend who sees the picture says he can see enough resemblance to make certain that it is you, bub you have tried to look too formal to be natural and graceful