Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-04-19

2 with those who have been denied that boon. can imagine, imperfectly, of course, what you have missed by being motherless. can realize, to some ex. tent, how desolate and dark your life has been."
 involuntarily shuddered at the mem ories his words called up, and he, noting the action, continued in different strain.
 ''The past is over" ," he said, ''and, as it cannot be changed, it is best to dwell as little as possible on it's sorrows, but to fill our minds instead with thoughts of the future. You will, no doubt, find comfortable, happy home with your cousin, and ina short time be able to gain many good, kind friends. There is a prospect of long, useful life be- fore you, because you are capable of doing much good in the world and are disposed to employ your talents for bet tering the lot of mankind"
 It is impossible to describe the effect these sober, earnest utterances had on me. They were spoken quietly, unos- tentatiously, and were, apparently, simply casual remarks, having no inten- tion of instructing or advising, yet they reversed the whole train of my thoughts and put into my mind a new system of ideas. Previous to that moment had suffered my mind to be charnel-house of sore grievances, my thoughts being occupied entirely with recollections of the bitter sufferings I had known. I had never dreamed of looking forward to the birth of new and brighter ex- istence, and, above all, had never en- tertained an idea of the bare possibility of being able to administer in the least degree to the betterment of humanity and it's conditions.
 Now everything appeared to me in a different light. The future opened be- fore me like glorious panorama sur rounded by a halo of hope. My mind bounded up out of the darkness of grief and reveled in the light of happiness. was a new being and lived in a new world. was happy, hopeful and thankful. My soul was free of it's old servitude to grief, as was free of the old servitude to those at home.
 My companions quick eyes saw the alteration in my manner, little suspect ing that his words had wrought it. He eyed me curionsly for some time, evi- lently deeply pcrplexcd by my strange appearance, then, in tone of marked surprise, said:
 ''Now you are all animation and life, while a moment ago you were listless and Respondent. never saw so great a change in one in so short time. May 1 ask from whence it comes?''
 'Do appear much changed2" I asked, looking up with a smile.
 Wonderfully" he replied.
 "For the better?'' I continued.
 "Assuredly," said he. "Your features are radiant with the pleasure of antici- ;patiop and your eyes sparkle with the light of hope. One would think you very happy"
 II am," replied. "Inever was hap pier in my life"
 Well, I'm glad to see it." he re- marked, after short pause, looking at me rather doubtfully, "but am at a loss to account for so sudden an altera- tion in your manner.'
 "Then I'll tell you," said I. "YouI are the cause.'
 ''I!' he questioned, in surprise. ''1 don't understand"
 By remark you made a moment siuce,'' explained, ''you opened to my mind the possibilities of tho future, showing that could grow out of my present condition and become not only happy woman, but a useful one. That is something that I never thought of before, and the idea came to me like 6 revelation, opening dazzling prospects before me.''
 'I am indeed reioiced," he said, eff I inadvertently let drop word calcu- lated to brighten your thoughts. It is gratifying to know have done you a small service although did it purely accidentally. But now that we are on that subject, let me add that the past has but little happiness in It. It is true many of us in looking back see little i'm cidents here and there which arc pleas ant to recall, but they are SO woven in with disappointments and sorrows that their brightness is almost completely obscured. The happiness of humanity lies in the future in having some worthy purpose for the accomplishment of which we must work and think. That takes our minds away from the past and leaves us no opportunity for studying and grieving over what has been or what might have been. But excuse me. did not mean to preach a sermon or deliver lecture"
 assured Mir. Cornell that his remarks were not in the least tiresome, and they were not to me. To those who had gained a knowledge of the world they might, perhaps, have been tedious, be- cause the ideas were old, but to me, in my ignorance and inexperience, it was all new, and I eagerly drank in every word he spoke.
 ''Now that you see the necessity of adapting yourself to life work" he continued, "have you an idea of the sphere in which you would choose to labor?''
 ''No, at present have not" I an swered. ''The thought is so fresh with me that cannot decide that point now. must have time to think it over.''
 Certainly. There are many things to be taken into consideration, of course. Your inclinations must be consulted, and then one's circumstances and sur+