Tombstone epitaph., 1891-01-11
TEN MINUTES A DAY.

MOllie had given up her music. Every one regretted it. Mamma missed the light touch of her daughters fingers on the piano, which sometimes stood silent for weeks, and rejoiced when Mollie de- clared herself to be in musical mood, though she only played snatches of her old pieces, aud those indifferently well; and papa's requests for his favorite melo- dies were too often meg with the unsatis- factory answer that "Mollie couldn't play them now-she was all out of practice" Brother Tom grumbled when she failed in his accompaniments, "that, after all the time she had spent drumming on that old piano, if she could not play simple things like those it was a pity" His sister fully agreed with him, and did not change her mind as time passed on and she was asked to play at several little gatherings of her friends, where "Mollie's music" lad always been one of the pleasantest features of the evening, and she was obliged to decline on the tiresoine plea of "not playing without her notes."
 'I think it's too bad," exclaimed Bes- sie Arlington, one of her special cronies. "Mollic used to play so lovely, and she was always so nice and Obliging about it, and played whenever she was asked; and there's no one to take her place but Eva Harris, and she has to be leased so long before she will strike note that it spoils all the pleasure.
 ''So it does," said another voice. "And now that Mollie's out of school she ought to have time to practice three hours a day, if she wanted to-"
 "Oh, Rose Newtonp' cried Amy Leslie, ''you don't know anything about it. Just wait till you leave school, and see how many hours you practice or do anything regularly. It's awfully hard. You don't accomplish. as much in a year as you would in three months of school"
 "Al owing to lack of system," said Bessie, with the tone and manner of one who had been through varied experiences and acquired vast stores of wisdom there from. The girls laughed.
 ''I suppose it's so," said Amy, "but Mollie is systematic; rather, at least, she means to be-" she added, not feeling quite sure of her ground. "And she is busy al- most all the time."
 ''She is dear girl, anyway" said her friend Helen Starr. "And I know she is too busy to practice, for it does take lot of time. Only it seems pity"
 So it did, and no one realized it more than Mollie. When she left school tie year before, she had congratulated herself on the fact that her time was her own, and she could spend 1t as she pleased. But, for that reason she would not waste it; sLe would be very diligent, and though she should not study in the summer, she would continue her music. She had a fair touch, was rapid reader, and played with expression and accuracy; her one great failing was dislike to steady prac- tice- a lack of perseverance. Such being the case, perhaps it was not strange that, amid the vacation gayeties, her hours of practice grew less and less frequent, and finally ceased altogether, and she trusted to her memory and former instruction for her present skill. And so the days slipped by, bright with pleasures, that by and by would have glided into joyful memories, and the autumn came, and Mollie re- turned to her home, but the music was not resumed. "It seemed as if she never had any time;" which often meant she did not take it. But, to Mollie's credit, be 1t said hers was & busy winter; she studied French and German, attended a literature class, and was member of a Shakespeare club; and it is probable she might not have realized that her musical talent was decreasing, but that one day, when she wss playing to her friends, she broke down in the middle of her piece and had to leave the piano. Faithful practice was the one thing needful, and Mollie knew it; but, like many older and wise, souls, she resolved aud planned, and failed to execute.
 And the months rolled on, until one day in December she awoke with a starr to the fact that the last day of the year had arrived, and that she was utterly un- able to play single piece correctly. For fifteen minutes she sat silent. wrapped in a brown study; then she took from the table note book and pencil, and, as the result Of her reverie, wrote down the fol- loving
 RESOLVE:
 ''That I, Mollie Winthrop, aged IS, on this 3lst day of December, will, on each day of the year, commencing tomorrow, devote ten minutes to the practice of five finger exercises and scales.
 "In the year of our Lord eighteen hun dred and eighty-fve
 Mollie read the paragraph aloud, with an amused expression. 'It sounds as if were making my will," she murmured "Well, so l am-disposing of my time Instead of my money, for my own benefit Instead of other peoples" She laid the note book aside, and turned to the "Mer- chant of Venice" the next subject for the Shakespeare club. She had read but a few minutes when she heard light foot steps on the stairs and the sound of girlish laughter, and presently her three special friends entered the room.
 "Well, Mollie, my dear, how are your' said Amy Leslie. "I have not seen you Tor perfect age. What have you been doing with yourself all this long dayr'
 Whereupon Mollie produced her note- book and read them her "Resolve." lt met with Amy's cordial approval; Helen echoed her opinion, but Bessie looked in- credulous. In answer to Mollie's ques- tioning glance she said. bluntly, 'I don't believe you'll keep it, aMl don't see the use of it if you do."
 "Why, Bessie Arlihgion" cried Amy. "Of course she'll keep itr'
 I suppose you've made resolves be. foref' said Bessie, shortly.
 ''Yes," said Mollie.
 "And broken themg"
 'Yes," said Mollie again. "But I really mean to keep this one, and think l shall"
 Bessie's bright eyes softened at the look of determination on her friends face. sI hope you will, she answered. "But I don't see the use of 1t now. I should think you would want to learn to play