Waterbury evening Democrat., 1893-08-24

and in my heart. cherished her mem | ory with a tenderness that had grown calm, and I loved her as one loves a dream of a most beautiful and enchant- ing thing.
 | Twelve years do not mean much in the life of a man. They pass almost un- noticed. One follows upon the other, slowly yot swiftly. Each is long, yet soon at an end. Although they multiply rapidly, they leave few traces behind and vanish so completely that when one looks back upon them there is nothing left to remind us of their flight, and age creeps on without warning. | 1t seemed to me that only few years | separated me from that delightful season on the beach at Etretat.
 "One day last spring I went to dine with friends at Maissous-Lafitte. Just as the train was about to start portly matron entered the coach 1 occupied ac- companied by four little girls. l could not help looking curiously at this large, rotund, motherly creature, whose face was like the full moon under a berib- boned hat. She puffed and panted from the eXertion of her hurried walk. The children began to babblc, and unfolded my newspaper and commenced to read. As we passed Asniercs my neighbor sud denly aCcosted me:
 "'I beg your pardon, sir. Are you not M. Carnior:'
 "'Yes madame
 "She laughed with the contCntcd laugh of n cheerful woman, but there was just a tinge of sadness in her voice.
 Do you not recognize me:'
 II hesitatcd. It seemed to me that had seen her face before, but l could not tell when and where. l answered.:
 'Hes-and, no-I certainly know you, but I cannot rccollect your name She bluShed little.
 'Mme. Julie Lefcvre
 T was startled out of my wits. For a moment the earth seemed to reel around me, and a veil was rudvly torn from my eyes which made me see things with ter rible, heartrcnding clearncss.
 1t was she. This stout common woman, the mother of these four girls. I eyed the little creatures with as much astonishment as did their mother. They had followed her; they had taken their places i'll life, already half women, and she counted for nothing-shc, who had once been such marvel of delicate and |. coQuettish charms!
 '"It seemed to me that l had known her but yesterday. and to find her thus , again! It was impossible! \ violent :. pang wruuE my heart. I rebellel against nature and her brutal, infamous work of destruction! I looked at her with frightened eyes When l took her | hand in mine. tears dimmed my vision. 1 wept for her youth; 1 wept for her death. This stout woman was a stranger to me.
 ''She, too was touched, and she fal. | tered: I am much changed, know, but :, | it is only natural. I am q mother now | nothing but mothcr-a good mother :, Farewell to everything else that is passed. did not think that you would i recognize mo or that We should ever meet again. You yourself arc not a; , you used to be. IL took me some timt
 to decide whether l was mistaken in my | surmisc. Nuur hair has grown quite ., | gray. Think of it-13 years is q long time. My oldest daughter is nearly l( , years old
 Il looked at the child and discovered il n her some of tho old charms of her moth :, CT, undcfinahlc as vet, uniformed and il
 the bud, and life seemed to Inc TA hin:
 more than a rapidly passing train. w, s arrived at MaisSuus- Latittc. l kiSSc, 1 my old friends hand and parted from he r with a few trivial phrases. I was to, deeply moved to speak.
 In the evening when was alone OK . amined my face q long time in the mir ', TOT and ended by rrcalling to my min, .r the picture uf myself as I had been il h bygono days, with brown mustache an,
 black hair and young, fresh face. Bu r now l was old. Farcwcn"-Guy D . MaupasSant.