Connecticut western news., 1879-03-05
A Mistake for the Better,
BY LENA LESLIE,

don't know how Max ever came to fall in love with me when there was cousin Sylvie with her lovely com plexion, blonde tresses and ladylike ways. To think that he should have preferred wild little gypsy like me, with no fortune to boast of, and no ac. complishments either, unless dancing is one, and I can dance like fairy, Max says. Then as for beauty-wen I will draw my portrait. Hair, dark brow falling over my shoulders in wild pro- fusion, as they say in novels, though, wild confusion would describe it better, for it will curl in spite of neglect, and curls will get in 8 tangle as everybody knows, and I can't spend 8 couple of hours at the mirror, daily, as Sylvie does; eyes, very good indeed-to devour stories nose, rather saucy, if the truth must be told; mouth, passable; com plexion, well, it would be better if could only remember to keep my hat on. Oh! suppose must mention the dimple in my right cheek. I hate dimples they are SO babyish, but I have been more reconciled to mine since Max's pretty speech about Cupid playing hide and seek among the roses"
 We'll, as remarked before, I don't know how Max ever came to fall in love with me. l asked him once and he ssid-but there! I am beginning at the wrong end as usual.
 Well, to begin at thes beginning must go back to Sylvie's birthday party. She was eighteen. nearly three years older than I, but one would suppose her to be at least ten years the oldest by the superiority she assumes. We'll, Sylvie was to have party to celebrate the grand event of arriving at the superior age and wisdom of eighteen, and the lion of the occasion was to be Maxwell D'Arcey, g handsome, wealthy, young lawyer who had recently moved into town, and was considered a desirable parti by all the girls in the community. To tell the truth I had fallen in love with him myself, and so had Sylvie, though she would have been shocked to acknowledge the fact.
 SylVie's dress was to be quite magnii- cent. I often fingered in the sewing room to admire the rich silk and foamy laces as they grew into graceful loveli- ness in the skillful hands of the seam- stress. ventured to suggest that 8 new dress would be conducive to my happiness.
 You can wear your white dress, :" said my cousin. Sylvie is always ready with suggestions.
 "My white dress," repeated scorn- fully.
 "What is the matter with it?' inquired aunt Marsden, looking up from her sewing. "You have worn it but few times, and white is quite suit able for child like you."
 It is too short, objected.
 Nonsense p said aunt shortly.
 Mabel wants 8 train, ma," said Sylvie, sarcastically.
 We'll, was fifteen and half, and it was time to have long dresses if ever, so forcibly remarked that I never should have lover if was to be kept in sho Tt dresses all my life.
 , A lover p shrieked Sylvie, looking sxtremely mortified, "that child talking about lovers p'
 am not child," I retorted. besides yom were fifteen and half once" was careful to give myself the benefit of the half year.
 "My mind was not occupied with lovers at that remote period. I stayed in the nursery and played with my dolls, " retorted Sylyie. did not credit that statement for don't believe SylYie ever played with dolls. It is more likely she was sewing patchwork or studying the catechism, two things I always detested, but then Sylvie was born with needle and thread in one hand and catechism in the other.
 Well, was sent to my room in dis grace for presuming to mention lovers !: so l took the obnoxious dress from the closet and tried it on. It WAS very pretty, and becoming, too, for I look well in white. but alas I had grown. and the dress was shorter than ever. I tore it of. threw 1t in a heap on the foors and threw myself in heap on tLe bed and cried with ysxasiou until .