Connecticut western news., 1883-03-21

long from the want of womanly fingers constantly at hand, she had good cry after he had left and she had gone into her room. There was something more pitiful to her, something that touched her heart more deeply, in that rip in her lovers Sunday coat than in all her long years of waiting.
 As the years went on it was sometimes with sad heart that Maria stood and watched the poor lonely old figure moving slower than ever down the street to his lonely home; but the heart was sad for him always, and never for her self. She used to wonder at him little sometimes, though always with the most loyal tenderness, that he should choose to lead the solitary, cheerless life that he did, to go back to his dark, voiceless home, when he might be so sheltered and cared for in his old age. She firmly believed that it was only owing to her lover's incorrigible slowness, in this as in everything else. She never doubted for an instant that he loved her. Some women might have tried hastening matters little themselves, but Maria, with the delicacy which is sometimes more inherent in a steady, practical nature like hers than in more ardent one, would have lost her self-respect forever if she had done such thing.
 So she lived cheerfully along, corded her boots, though her fingers were get ting stiff, humored her mother, who was getting feebler and more childish every year, and did the best she could for her poor foolish old lover.
 When David was seventy, and she sixty-eight, she gave away the pearl colored silk to a cousins daughter who was going to be married. The girl was young and pretty and happy, but she was poor, and the silk would make over into grander wedding dress for her than she could hope to obtain in any other way.
 Poor old Maria smoothed the lustrous folds fondly with her withered hands be- fore sending it away, and cried little, with a patient pity for David and her self. But when tear splashed directly on to the shining surface of the silk, she stopped crying at once, and her sorrow ful expression changed into one of care ful scrutiny as she wiped the salt drop away with her handkerchief, and held the dress up to the light to be sure that it was not spotted. A practical nature like Maria's is sometimes great boon to its possessor. It is doubtful if anything else can dry 8 tear as quickly. a.ss-
 Somehow Maria always felt little differently toward David after she had given away her wedding dress. There had always been a little tinge of con- sciousness in her manner toward him, 8 little reserve and caution before people. But after the wedding dress had gone, 1 all question of marriage had disappeared so entirely from her mind that the deli cate considerations born of it vanished. She was uncommonly hale and hearty for woman of her age; there was ap- parently much more than two years diff ference between her and her lover. It was not only the Saturdays bread and pie that she carried now and deposited on David's little kitchen table, but open ly and boldly, not caring who should see her, many warm dinner. Every day, after her own house-work was done, David's house was set to rights. He should have all the comforts he needed in his last years, she determined. That they were his last years was evident. He coughed, and now walked so slowly from feebleness and weakness that it was a matter of doubt to observers whether he could reach Maria Brewster's before
 Monday evening.
 One Sunday night he staid little longer than usual-the clock struck ten
 before he started. Then he rose, and said, as he had done every Sunday even-
 ing for so many years, Well, Maria, l
 guess it's about time for me to be go-
 in'."
 She helped him on with his coat, and
 tied on his tippet. Contrary to his
 usual habit he stood in the door, and
 hesitated minute: there seemed to be
 something he wanted to say. Maria"
 "Well, David?"
 "I'm gittin' to be an old man, yo, know, an I've allus been slow-goin';
 couldn't seem to help it. There ha been good many things haven't go around to-" The old cracked voic quavered painfully.
 <, "Yes, I know, David, all about it r you couldn't help it. wouldn't worr 8 a bit about it if I were you" - 'You don't lay up anything agin me
 Maria ?''
 e "No, David"
 t Good night, Maria
 g "Good night, David. I will fetch yo ). over some boiled dinner tomorrow. d She held the lamp at the door till th l. patient, tottering old figure was out ( l. sight. She had to wipe the tears fro1 k her spectacles in order to see to read ht t Bible when she went in.
 d Next morning she was hurrying u
 her housework to go over to David's- d somehow she felt little anxious abo1 3. him this morning-when there was y loud knock at her door. When sl l. opened it boy stood there, painting f. It breath he was David's next neighbo, 10 son.
 n "Mr. Emmons is sick, he said, ia n- 1uaf1ts vn1 I WAS ooin, for milk nh.