The daily morning journal and courier. [volume] (New Haven, Conn.) 1894-1907, 1899-08-28

to hang himself,-both were alive; ant
a third one sent many defamatory
letter to her first and second husbands
She had lived through much, and
yet she asked herself how she came to
nave a second husband, and a new
homestead with different surroundings
new life? She could not ind an answer
TO this. Within the last fifteen years
| she had lived through such variety of
good and bad luck, that when she re-
| Elected upon it she was not able to ac-
count for it herself. Her past revealed
TO her many hours of sunshine, good
deal of rain, bright starry summer
nights, fierce winter cold and heavy
SHOWS, again bright sunny days, and
again fierce winters cold.
/ All this which she had lived through
in the last fifteen years she sees now
and then before her in one great whirl,
and she did not know herself how she
came to be in her present position.
Meanwhile she was short of time.
The children We're slckly, her husband
nervous; there is trouble enough.
At the age of thirty and five she grew
tired of life. She wanted to leave eve
rything and so away, far, far away
from men, from all her admirers, some
where in quiet corner, near a green
forest, beside a quiet running little
brook, between green valleys or upon
high mountains: she was in need of
fresh air. She longed to draw her
, breath and take rest from her thirty
five years of restless life.
When she dressed before the looking
glass as in her younger days, she saw
that of her beauty there remained only
pair of jet black eyes and black
hair. True, they did not shine as they
used to, and much of the hair was lost;
but by the remainder which she yet
treasured, her forty and fifty year old
admirers still recognized in her what
she used to be.
Sometimes she felt like continuing
her life, although she suffered much
from her aged, jealous husband. Woe
to the woman whose husband is jeal-
Gus!
While Pauline was tired of too much
active life, Rosie at the same time was
weary and lonely, not having lived at
all.
Not at all well. at the age of twenty
eight. Rosie was married to strong,
healthy young man who was in no way
her equal and who, as it transpired,
had married her only for her dowry.
After her marriage her health became
poorer. She was not confined to bed, but
she was afflicted with what Is called
the walking disease. She steadily COM
planned that her heart was getting
hat i,,c how
sides, and her headaches became un-
bearable. Regardless of her illness she
gave birth to a child three years after
her marriage. The child was three
years old now and was not able to
stand up alone. Ricketts," said the
doctors. 1t was necessary to battle him
twice daily and to rub him with a va
riety of ointments
Rosie loved her child, and yet she
complained that the child was bur-
den to her life. II am always alone"
she said. 81 am hardly we'll enough to
walk around, and in addition to my
every day work, for the last three
years, I have had to take care of a
sick child
She had even worse luck with her
husband. He did not love her-this she
and everybody else knew. He paid her
no attention nor did he stay at home.
At the beginning little domestic scenes
occurred on account Of this, but she
soon convinced herself that with the
scenes she only made matters worse,
and soon took things as a matter of
course But still she suffered with her
sick child. With Rosie the desire to
have recourse to a quiet retreat, some
where in the woods even in the desert,
only to be able to have a rest from the
thirty-five years of weary life, re-
Cured more often.
Another quarter of a century passed
away. After a long and severe winter,
the young, beauteous spring rolled in
with it's green beauty and its company
of attendants of all sorts, chirping,
and singing and billing in the
trees, in the air and on the ground be-
tween the grass blades, The streets |
were dry, the air was warm.
But the main beauty of the spring |
was most apparent in the public gar
den, where the trees were green and
the flowers We're opening their petals
and exposing them to the tender kisses
of the warm breeze The messengers
of spring formed charming choruses,
the suns rays played between the trees
and amongst the pleasure seekers who
walked around in the open spaces. Ev-
cry one spoke louder and more cheer
fully than usual. Children continually
ran about, just as the little birds above
them hoped from one Dough to anoth-
er middle aged people wore smiling
faces, and even the old folk spoke more
and animatedly 1t was
plain that all living beings, from man
to the smallest insects, were glad and
happy in the first day of spring.
On the sunny side of a green ally are
two feeble old ladies'. dressed
in cloaks long since out of style. They
have parasols in their hands, on which
they lean heavily at every step. Their
faces are wrinkled, their heads lowered
and their bodies bent with age. They
pause to rest every little while, Their
comes from toothless
mouths.
well, my dear Pauline, wasn't this
1 long wipter?'
'Ah, a terrible winter"
''Yes-a terrible winter! Thank
heaven it is over! To-day is fine. The
sun beams SO cheerfully yet l have put
m INV heaviest cloak: YOU too, Rosie,