Walker Lake bulletin. (Hawthorne, Nev.) 1883-1926, 1898-02-02

an Old Maid" My knitting with its
balls of pale blue and deep wine red,
rests idly in my lap. | lean back com
fortably in my big chair, and with half
closed eyes let my hayward thoughts
wander where free fancy leads them.
N ho knows what tender feelings
steal into many n lonely heart Wheh
the shades are drawn and Il Droodlng
silence settles down on quiet little
house? | cannot help wondering wheth-
en- after all, my neighbor over the way
is more or less happy than l, and my
mind goes back to the time when we
were schoolmates.
Lillian at 1G was the prettiest girl In
school. Her wide-open blue eyes, her
soft. round cheeks, and her waving hair
made her n picture of glrlish beauty.
She never cared for study. but romp,
n picnic, or n dance was her dellght.
Well, at IS she married one OF the
boys and expected to have gay
time forever after. Her Jack was a
good dancer and drove stylish horse,
all the girls envied her, and what more
could one ask for!
But the first year brought severe dis
appointments. Lillian grew careless or
her personal appearance ana Wildly
Jealous of Jack. He hated scenes, ana
preferred 10 spend his time where he
would not be annoyed by them. After
some bitter lessons Jacks wife learned
to keep within certain well-defined linz
its. With her fresh beauty faded, and
with the knowledge that she has lost
her husbands alteration, she drags
along Il weary life, in which there Is
neither pleasure in the present nor hope
for the future. Said to myself, Il am
far happier in certain loneliness than
in such companionShip," and | looked
around my coy room with sense or
relief to think that no scowling face
and no harsh words married my "Old
Maids Paradise"
Then took up my half-fnished work
and knitted industriously for awhile.
was making some socks for little Ted,
my young nephew. Who could tell the
proud joy, the Infinite tenderness and
love which were in the heart of Ted's
little mother? There was an answer
ing thrill when l thought of her, and
contrasted her life with mine. How
closely she clasped the little fellow in
her arms, as ii she would shield him
from all the world. With what eager
ness she watched for the first respon-
sivc look, the first plain word, and the
first lettering step. And there was
even an absurd fondness in those ten
der mother eyes as she gazed on the
antics of her young son and imagined
them vastly superior to those exhibited
by any other infant in the wide world
Ted was not commonplace, everyday
baby, not he. His wordless babblings
were full of wisdom, only we poor or
binary mortalS could not understand
the mysterious language in which they
were uttered.
laid down my knitting and in the
red Goals of the open fire crate read
the coming years, bringing the inevita-
bic changes fer Ted and his mother
The boy is not satisfied to live within
The clasp of those sheltering arms. He
must see life, be free. so out into the
world and judge for himself. The
mothers eyes are dim with gathering
tears and she trembles with forebod-
ings. Her boy, her little Ted, is out
there, away from her love and watch
full care. He may be cold. or weary, or
i'll. The great world is pitiless, and
there are many snares. She reads the
papers and trembies Mt every sensa-
tional item. Q. if she could only have
kept him as he was, a little innocent
child, when she knew his thoughts and
directed his actions. Her solitude Is
far more lonely than mine, and for the