Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1880-11-10

FOUR OLD MAIDS.

love an old maid--I do not speak of
an individual, but of the species-I use
the singular number, as speaking of
singularity In humanity. An old maid
Is not merely an antiquary, she is an
antiquity; not merely a record of the
past, but the very past itself; she has
escaped a great change, and sympa-
thizes not in the ordinary mutations of
mortality. She inhabits little eternity
of her own. She Is miss from the be-
ginning of the chapter to the end. lido
not like to hear her called mistress,
as Is sometimes the practice, for that
looks and sounds like the resignation of
despair, a voluntary extinction of hope.
I Go not know whether marriages are
made in heaven some people say they
are. but am almost sure that old maids
are. There is something about them
that is not of the earth earthly. They
are spectators of the world, not advent
urers, not ramblers; perhaps guardians;
we say nothing of tattlers. They are,
evidently, predestined to be what they
are. They owe not the singularity of
their condition to any lack of beauty.
wisdom. wit or good temper; there is no
accounting for it but on the principle of
fatality. [ have known many old maids,
and of them all not one that has not
possessed as many good and amiable
qualities, as ninety and nine out of 100
of my married acquaintance. Why,
then, are they single? 1t is their fate
On the left hand Of the road between
London and Liverpool there is village
which, for particular reasons. [ shall
call Littleton, and will not so far crafty
the curiosity of idle inquirers as to say
whether it Is nearer to London or to
Liverpool but it is very pretty vii
lage, and let the reader keep a sharp
lookout for it the next time he travels
that road. IL is situated in a valley,
through which runs tiny rivulet as
bright as silver, but hardly wide enough
for a trout to turn round in. Over the
little stream there is bridge, which
seems to have been built merely out of
compliment to the liquid thread, to save
1t the modification of being hoped over
by every urchin and clodpole in the
parish. The church is covered with
ivy, even halfwayup The steeple, but the
sexton has removed the green intrusion
from the face of the clock, which, with
its white surface and black figures,
looks at distance like an owl in an ivy
bush. A little to the left of the church
is the parsonage house, almost smoth-
cred with honeysuckles in front of the
house is grass plot, and up to the door
there is what is called a carriage drive );
but / never saw carriage drive up
there, for it is so steep that it would re-
quire six horses to pull the carriage up,
and there is not room enough for more
than one. Somewhat farther up the
hill, which bounds the little valley
where the village stands, there is a cot
tage; the inhabitants of Littleton call it
the white cottage. It is merely small,
whitewashed house, but as it is occu-
pied by genteelish sort of people, who
cannot afford large house, it is gener-
ally called cottage.
All these beautiful and picturesque
objects, and great many more which
/ have not described, have lost with me
their interest. It would make me mel
ancholy to go into that church. The in
terest which [ had In the parsonage
house was transferred to the white cot
tage, and the interest which I had in
the white cottage is now removed to
the church-yard, and the interest is in
four graves that lie parallel to each
other. with headstones of nearly one
date. In these four graves lie the re-
mains Of four old maids. Poor things |
their remains Alack, alack, there was
not much that remained Of theml