Litchfield enquirer., 1867-05-16
JOSEPHINE.

] Park tall brick house, with high stoop, great brass door plate, and heavy knock er It had breadth and roominess denied in these days to any thing but palace" l trees shadowed its strip of sidewalk, and it's outlook was into the very heart of the Park greenery. From the front windows you | could see the nicely kept turf, the pretty fan tail pigeons coquett1ng about the walks, and old Cisco, the sable genius of the house pursuing his tutelary labors. The house stands there yet, perhaps, but its air, its dignity, have passed away. At the time of which write the neighborhood was of the first responsibility ; the haae volee had in- deed winged their flight up town, but sub stantial families still dwelt under their own roofs around St. John's still took their air, ings in it's bounds, and looked with com fortable exclusiveness through it's rails st locked-out passers-by.
 One May afternoon party of three issued from the tall brick khouse-Katharine Courte- nay, with her sisters Mary and Josephine the season DO tint of hair or cheek 1efus- ed to blend they had but to put on fresh i garb to be at one with Nature. Spring is the time for young people ; it's ftful grace. its lovehness bearing ever the promise of greater loveliness to come, are all for them To us who are older, Autumn speaks, its swift splendors telling of decay, even at their height. For youth. the buds that prison summers glory; for Us, the boughs that shall be leafess soon.
 Of such time the girls had no forebod- ing; they loitered about the paths enjoying the soft air, the pale sunshine, the bright ening verdure. They talked of their last May in the country of woods where spring beauties carpeted the earth with delicate blossom, and every little hollow was fair with groups of up springing anemone ; where tall hemlocks lifted their heads into the sky, and the soft lapse of waters made the whole air drowsy.
 "Do you remember the beds of adder tongue, like plots of sunshine ?" asked Katharine.
 "Yes and the strange, spotted leaf that had such look of guilt and mystery. l used to wish I were Mr. Hawthorne to write story from it" said Mary.
 "And the vine with it's dark, glossy leaves and scarlet berries s''-here Josephine took up the word-"I I wished for it to dress the church at Christmas. And those white flowers of the wake robin that were so like lilly, how beautiful they would be upon the altar y
 "Never mind the altar now" said Mary, with shadow of impatience repeated the next minute and atoned for by-and-by. So, the life of the city surging round, the influence of springdays stole over them; that feeling, too ethereal for us to call it sadness !; that light haze, as it were, over our joy in the surrounding beauty
 Josephine was the first to arouse from it. Half past four '" she exclaimed, looking at her watch. 1T must go."
 "Why z" said Katharine. It is early"
 "You forget that this is the Month of May"
 "Victor is coming to tea," said Katha. rine, indolently.
 "That happens often, doesn't it And the service will be over before tea time"
 "Well, but it is so pleasant here-and there's no obligation, you know"
 eff you look at it in that way. Will you come, Mary ?"
 Mary did not care much to stay longer j; besides she felt guilty of the few words just before. So they went home for their pray CT books.
 There is vast difference in prayer-books. Mary's was nothing but wade mecum of small size, containing the ordinary offices But Josephine's was a ponderous Roman Missal, richly bound, and held every form of service known to the church. Devotion al pictures marked it here and there, and the emblem of salvation was blazoned on either cover. As she walked slowly along the street, her eyes cast down, the gilt cross gleaming through the transparent folds of her handkerchief, all who met her must recognize devout young Catholic maiden. It was twilight in the church ere the of ! flee ended, though day yet fingered with 1 out. Beautiful was the blooming shrine face of the Virgin Mother with the Hope of the World cradled in her arms. The per fume of flowers mingled with frankincense and myrrh, the heavenly voices of the choir echoed through the darkening aisles. Mary, good Catholic as she was, had seen through it all, that Mrs. M'Bride wore her second bonnet instead of that lovely one she came out with on Easter Sunday, and thought how unbecoming apple-green was to Julia Depau's complexion. But Josephine gave no heed to such vanities her heart swelled within her, divine exaltation bore her from earth, and she was only recalled by the close of the service and the departure of the worshipers.
 The house was aglow with light when the girls reached home, and the family were at tea. Mrs. Courtenay sat behind the urn dispensing the fragrant beverage to her husband and their numerous olive branch es. A life of ample means and quiet heart, unfettered by striving after fashionable dis play, had left handsome woman at the close of five-and-forty years. 4. "What kept you so late ?'' she asked, as the two came in.
 Josephine wanted to stop at the French church, mamma, to see the Sepulchre in the Rock; they have left it there from Holy Week."
 Don't you hate French piety ?" said Victor to Katharine, at whose side she sat. It's cut paper and artificial flowers are enough to drive one straight to Voltaire.- No wonder all French men are skeptical you ladies, I suppose, delight in these lit- tie prettinesses. Katharine smiled Josephine was shock ed. "We must let people manifest their devotion as they will, ,'' said Mrs. Courtenay. Different nations will carry their charac. teristics with them, even into their relig- ion. We Americans can not, perhaps. en- ter with sympathy into all the observances of foreigners, but we can at least respect the faith that prompts them am taking as If you were one of us, Victor, she added: Hand indeed I think vou ara hx .;ch4