Weekly Chillicothe crisis. (Chillicothe, Livingston Co., Mo.) 1878-19??, 1885-03-26
HER BIRTHDAY GIFT.

1--WE should not count our years a
misfortune, and to be candid, this, my
fortieth birthday, is the one day of my
life that have constantly looked for
ward to with satisfaction.
"Since Yesterday" asked, doubt
fully.
"Since | was mere girl in my teens
that is the period considered the
happicst in woman's life, is it not?
| fancy | am constitutiOnally timid,
for | have always had an almost NOR
bid horror of putting myself in a posi-
tion that i could not break away
from.
Marriage being one of themP" |
asked.
But she did not seem to hear me,
and continued
"And then there were constant diff
cult, teasing questions to decide. and
even provoking trivial things grew
important if had to deal with them,
and was so easily frightened"
"And So" began, for Frances had
left off speaking and seemed to have
forgotten my existence.
"And so," she repeated, shaking
herself out of her musings, II used to
say, when / am forty life will be worth
living. There will be nothing more to
happen that is unusual; no more i'm
pOrtant decisions to be made. The
rest of ones days will be spent in
pleasant monotony. A few every day
worries that no mortal can escape;
sickness perhaps, but nothing unusual
to fear, nothing in the future to tor
mcnt me.
"And is that your idea of satisfac-
tory life?n
81 could only ask questions, for |
lad no sympathy in Frances mood
that night
ANY thing is better than the eternal
questions, whether we have done right
or wrong, wisely or foolisbly," she
answered irrelevantly. whether one
has sacrificed ono's life or escaped
misfortune. Now at forty. | am
forty tonight, YOU know"
OF course | knew it was Frances
birthday, for il was to keep the feast,
that | sat, mctaphorically, by her fire.
side.
Forty seems load of years to
carry, and yet wonder what it is that
makes one old, for to tell the truth |
do not feel q bit older than | did ten
years ago, and not nearly as old as |
did this night twenty-five years. Then
/ | 1rnnnn1 M ,,NinrhI n,
ill-litting garment There was no
possible way Of altering it, and so |
rid myself of it altogether Certainly
l can say tonight that | am better
satisfied, more contented, and"
Happier" suggested, but Frances
did not appropriate the word.
Comfortable, that better expresses
the idea, unless one could honestly
say satisfactory
Twas very sure Frances could not.
There could be little satisfaction in Il
woman's life devoid of near kinsfolk,
fretted by small economies, and with
out n home, for a third story back
room, even in Il comfortable boarding
house, has but few qualities of home
prevailing it.
"You had enough IN your youth 10
make life very satisfactory | said,
for remembered when Frances
father had been the leading lawyer at
our bar, and had lived in moro style
than the most OF us.
II had more money" she said with
a shrug of her shoulders, 81 would
like some of it now for it needs more
to keep ones self respectable at forty
than at eighteen. But am not un.
happy from the want of money. Ones
greatest misfortune is to have q his
tory. 1t has all the properties of a
ghost, and is as hard to lay, |, for
Instance"
looked up quickly at Frances then
as quickly turned my gaze to tho fire,
was going 10 say, but in fact to the
stove. | felt the natural flutter of
pleasure that one feels when ones
friends are confidential, and place
you on different footing than you
ever were before. 1t is subtle flat
terry as well as mark of trust when
some friends conlidc to your keeping a
personal history.
Whether it was the clock striking
10, or something quite as trivial that
gave Francis thoughts turn, l could
not guess, for instead of history |
had long wished to hear. she fed me
on cake and wine in honor of her
birthday, which she produced from a
convenient closet. After that we chat
ted quietly, gossiping little, but
harmlessly, and working up yards
of fluffy wool, with our knitting
needles.
1t was the growth of my work that
reminded me of the lapse of time, for
l had given my one servant a holiday,
and expected to walk home alone.
But l had no fears, no matter what
the time was, for our village always
grew more quiet as the hours shorten
their numbers. The moon was full
and the only disagreeable part of my
leaving was to creep like a thief
: past the closed doors Of the sleeping
, boarders.
"Good night, and do not let the
ghost of the past trouble your slum-
bers," whispered to Frances, as she
let me out the front door.
"You know have entered into the
charmed age when there is nothing
, more to happen" she answered
in low key; and l do not know why,
for we were not demonstrative women,
we kissed each other as we said good
night.
Iknew Frances was Watching me until
turned the corner, which, as I did.