Litchfield enquirer., 1879-06-05

forgot me. came out in Paris went every where, was vastly gay, and terribly unhappy My aunt was youngish, and good looking-in way; she was dying to be rid of me, and knew it; and so things were very uncomfort- able at home until-until 1 married. Oh, told him the truth, the whole truth told him that the love of my life had gone by. am glad told him the truth
 D-An American, was he not?
 Mrs Mes. I was grateful to him and proud of him. He was so good and true. But he made light of my story. He thought, like the rest, that It was mere girllsh fancy that should soon forget; that There, you have my story! Touching, isn't it.?
 Dit is most extraordinary.
 Mrs M-What is most extraordinary?
 D-Yeur story is like my story.
 Mrs M-It's everybody's story. It's com mon as the whooping cough, and dull as the humps But come, give me the details of your case.
 D-The details! if can remember them.
 Mrs M-If you can remember! Who would be man?
 Dit was in Paris
 Mrs Mn Paris?
 Dit is just like your story. Suppose that we take it as told
 Mrs M-Go on. l must hear it.
 D-I was sent to Paris when I was boy,
 
 tie bread and butter miss-and-and 1 got fond of her lawfully fond of her. She was the dearest little girl-the best little thing. She was-like-
 Mrs M-Go on. What happened? D-Nothing.
 Mrs M-Nothing! Nonsense Something always happens. D-Nothing came of it. They. said boy and girl, and calf-love, and all that, like the people in your story; and they packed me off to England.
 Mrs M-Why did you go? D-I always was fool They said that it would try the strength of her feelings; that, if we were both of the same mind when 1 had got my degree, the thing should be. Mrs M--And you never wrote? D-No. Mrs M-Nor did he-never one line. D-They said she wished me not to write.
 Mrs M--How likely! These men, these men! They never know what letters are to women. What was the end? D-The usual thing. As soon as my degree was all right made for Paris. She was gone. Mrs M-My poor friend She was dead. D-Married | Mrs M-Married! how could she be so- Dit is very like your story, amt it On | ly in my story the parties were not American. Mrs M-American What do you mean ? I | wasn't an American till 1 married one, and | Tom D-Then it wasn't Cousin John? Mrs M--John No, no no! Lord Daw- fish! Lord Dawlish what is your family name?
 D-My family name9 What on earth, my l dear Mrs. Melton
 Mrs M-Quick, quick! What is it? D-Why-e r---why---Dashleigh, of course. Mrs M---And are you Tom Dashlegh? GAS ase looks Gt hina, the truth d1ons On yina D---And are you little Kitty Gray? Mrs M---Oh, my bright boy-lover, you are | lost now indeed. D-I think have got chill. (WAen Mey h0ue sat O Gtt1e aohtls tn silence, | &hejuapps Wp. Mrs M---No more sentiment, no more folly Away with sentiment for ever! The boy and girl lovers are dead long ago; and we old folk | who know the world may strew flowers on their grave and be gone. Look up, ,old friend, | look up. Diet you are you, and I---I suppose that am I. Mrs M---Young fools young fools! why should we pity them, we wise old folk who know the world? Love is but---is but--- (And she dashes into music Gt tue gid1ao soon | to hile her eyes; them she jumps Xp in teGrs ts'sd mooiaag, knocs ooer tue Gtte jar ao1tcA aoas Cousin Jo1ta's gsft He aooud pick it Wp, but she stops hjne.) No, no; let it lie there. Distant pick up the pieces?
 Mrs M---Let them lie there. One can never pick up the pieces.
 D---Why not ? I don't think understand. But can't bear to see you cry. I thought that you could not cry; that you were too clever and strong g-minded to cry. Look here You might have made something of me once. Is it too late, Mrs Melton?
 Mrs M---The jar is broken.
 D---Is it too late, Kitty?
 Mrs M---Let us pick tip the pieces together. --BLackaoOods Magasiae.,