Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1895-12-21

the adjective was we'll applied, so
sweet was her smile, and so tender and
gentle were the soft tones of her
voice. And she WAS not really old,
nothing like the conventional old
maid OF atory-book fame. She WAS
simply "NIiss Enid"-no longer very
young, but with a pnst that had
brought to her gladness and then sor.
row, and that had taught her life.
long lesson of the tendcrest, purest
sympathy in and with the smiles and
the tears of others. No one came to
Miss Enid for help and went away
comfortless; no one ever told her
some heartfelt story of grief and
weariness, and did not receive sweet
consolation in return. Miss Enid's
great heart was ever open, ever ready
to condole with the bereaved, to smile
hopefully upon the young and the
ardent toiler, to bring message of
patience to the sick and the sorrowing
in fact, to minister to each and
every one as they needed her sweet
helpfulness. And yet and yet Miss
Enid had known sorrow, the greatest
and the deepest sorrow that can come
into woman's life and blot out for.
ever the sunshine from the pathway
And she was thinking of the past
tonight, this Christmas time, when
every one was happy in the society of
their dear ones, and when love and
Joy were the theme of every hymn and
anthem that was sung in the great
church yonder, the church she had so
re Gently left. She had been twining
beautiful wreaths for pillar and pulpit
-wreaths of holly and ivy and box,
and the vicarnge children had helped
her, pricking their small fingers with
the sharp holly leaves, and tying her
string into numerable tangled knots.
Yet she loved them SO much, the
darlinss, that she was only too happy
to have them near her, to hear their
little bright voices, to gee their rosy
faces, and to feel the soft touch of
their soft hands as they hung about
her trying SO hard to help "dear Miss
Enid"
"We love you SO much, you know
gray.eyed Angela had said, "that we
want to 90 all We can, and it isn't very
much, but We does our best"
And Bobby had broken in with an
account OF the Christmas card that he
meant TO send Miss Enid very gor-
geous production from the village
shop, IN the purchase of Which aud
similar treasures the children's morn.
ing had been happily spent. AMI
Miss Enid thanked him before and
STOPPING down to Il IS the bonry lit,
tie face, rnd assuring him that she
would like 1t very much, an would
keep it always in memory OF him.
"That's right the little boy said,
heartily. Ills quite the proper
thing TO say. isn't it, Marjorie?'
And Marjorie and Angela nodded
assent as the nurse came to carry them
off home to the vicarage ten.
Miss Enid had declined their en-.
thusiastic invitation to accompany
them something had sent her
thoughts back to the past with sud-
den rush OF memory, and the scene
around seemed strangely dreamlike
and unreal. She fastened up the long
ends of her wreath and put on her
cloak, and then, before her flight was
noticed, she slipped away, out into
the darkness and the stiffness of the
winters evening. She wanted to be
alone, to think she had not had much
time to think lately, there was always
SO much to do; and then she had been
g Lad OF it before, for the memories of
Christmas time were generally sad
ones. But now she longed for qnietude,
for the sympathy of her own thoughts
and OF the dreams of that bitter sweet
past, the past that had so strangely
affected all her life.
And once i'll her cosy oak parlor, in
her own chair by the bright lireside,
she lay back with half closed eyes and
gave herself up, for brief time at
any rate. to the memory of the past.
1t was not a very eventful past, after
all, that the chi,dren's talk of Christ.
mas had brought back to her.
She was young then, that was all.
and life was rose.tinted with health
and happiness and-should she con,
fess it, even to herself?-love! Yes,
she believed that love had come to |
her, as it comes once, aud only once
In lifetime, to every one. And yet |