Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1888-02-08
Her Birthday Gift.

Her Birthday Gift.
1--WE should not count our years
misfortune, and to be candid, this,
my fortieth birthday, is the one day
of my life that l have constantly
looked forward to with satisfaction.
"Since yesterday ?" | asked doubt
fully.
"Since l was a mere girl in my
teens-that is the period considered
the happiest in woman's life, is it
noti fancy l am constitutionally
timid, for have always had an al
most morbid horror of putting my
self in position that / could not
break away FROM"
Marriage being one of them ?" |
asked.
But she did not seem to hear me,
and continued:
"And then there were constant,
difficult, teasing questions to decide,
and even provokingly trivial things
grew important if I had to deal with
them. and was so easily frightened.
"And So" l 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 l am forty, life will be
worth living. There will be nothing
more to happen that is unusual no
more important 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 prehaps, but nothing in the
future to torment me-"
"And is that your idea of salts
factory life'"
l could only ask questions, for
had no sympathy in Frances mood
that night.
Anything is better than the eter-
nal questions, whether we have done
right or wrong; wisely or foolishly,"
she answered, irrelevantly. "Wheth-
er one has sacrificed ones life, or es-
capped a misfortune. Now at forty.
am forty tonight, you know"
OF course / knew it was Frances
birthday for it was to keep the feast
that l sat, metaphorically, by her
fireside.
Forty seems load of years to
carry, and yet / wonder what it is
that makes one old, for to tell the
ruth / do not feel bit older than /
did ten years ago, and not nearly as
old as l did this night twenty-five
years. Then dropped my youth as
we might an Hitting garment.
There was no possible way of alter
ing it, and SO l rid myself of it alto
gether. Certainly l can say to-
night that l am better satisfied, more
contented, and"
Happier" / suggested, but Fran
ces did not appropriate the word.
Comfortable, that better expresses
the idea, unless one could honestly
say satisfactory"
was very sure Frances could not.
There could be little satisfaction in
woman's life devoid of near kinsfolk,
fretted by small economies, and with
out home, for third-story back
room even in a comfortable boarding
house, has but few qualities of home
pervading it. "You had enough in
your youth to make life very satisfac-
tory" l said, for remembered when
Frances father had been the leading
lawyer at our bar, and had lived in
more style than most of us.
81 had more money" she said,
with 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 l am not
unhappy from the want of money.
Ones greatest misfortune is to have
history. 1t has all the properties
of ghost, and is as hard to lay. /,
for instance"
looked up quickly at Frances,
then as quickly turned my gaze to
the fire, | was going to say, but in
fact to the stove. | felt the natural
hutter of pleasure that one feels when
ones friends are confidential, and
place you on a different footing than
you ever were before. 1t is subtle
fattery as we'll as a mark OF trust
when some friend confdes to your
keeping a personal history.
Whether it was the clock striking
ten, or something quite as trivial
that gave Frances thoughts turn,
/ could not guess, for instead Of
history l had long wished to hear,
she fed me on cake aud wine in honor
of her birthday, which she produced
from convenient closet. After that
we chatted quietly, gossiping little,
but harmlessly, and working up yards
of fluffy wool with our knitting need
les.
Ia .... IL. ......,L e 49,, ..o.I,