New Ulm review., 1901-09-11
THEIR VIEWS
OF LIVING,

One Of the last days Of autumn, and
the long, narrow walled In French gar
den lay mystcally still under It's yel-
low spell. Now and then russet leaf
drifted pensively down from one Of the
stout punching chestnut trees, and q
bed Of Indian sage glowed amid Its
livery Of yellow and brown like so
many ardent tongues Of fame.
The maid had already brought in the
candles, but the parlor windows were
still wide open, for the company inside
were loath to shut out the exquisite
mist yelled little panorama Of the dy-
Ing year.
There were four women In the room
whose respective ages represented four
interesting enough stages Of q won-
ans life.
Mamma, " said young girl, sudden
" turning toward her mother and push
Ing book away from her impatiently,
what do you think real living is? TIE
heroine of this novel keeps rejecting
her lover In the most high flown style
because she says he doesn't know what
real living It. should like to know
what you think It is"
The soft golden light of the candles
fell upon the young speakers face. A
fresh. rosy one 1t was, with full Grim
son lips, an intelligent, high brow and
small eyes that were as delicately blue
as myosotis. They were glowing now
with an eagerness and curiosity that
dilated the pupils strangely.
Real living, Flora? That is rather
serious question you are launching upon
US without giving us word Of warn
Ing" said the mother. '.Well, real liv-
ing to me means just doing your duty
to your fellow men without the least
expectation or wish for gratitude or
love in return for it. I have come to
believe that Is real living, Flora
| And you, Miss Gertrude, what do
you think It Isl" cried the girl, clasp
ing her pretty, plump hands and bend
ing her glowing. fair face toward the
unperturbed little figure at her left.
Il! What do I think is real living
You are as merciless as usual today in
your search after knowledge Of men
and things, Flora
There was q geam in the pale, large
blue eyes that caused the girl to raise
her hands and eyebrows at the same
time and exclaim protestingly, '.But,
now, what do you think 1t is?''
don't know that can give you
any satisfactory definition to SO pro-
found a question as that, Flora" de-
murely answered the young woman.
| Perhaps l have never really lived,
and If haven't how can know what
1t Is? But don't look disappointed. /
shall tell you what amuses me most,
and perhaps that, for me, may be real
living, since 1t is what get most out
Of in life. It is the study Of indiyidu-
ais. The world is an intensely anus
Ing place to me because of the ways Of
many Of its inhabitants. am never
tired Of watching the infinite variety Of
mankind and trying to find out what
they mean by their vagaries and con-
| tradictions, their ambitions and jeal-
ousies."
"But, Miss Gertrude, you never an
swer my questions straight. You al
ways dodge them," protested the pret-
ty questioner again. Miss Maude,
what do you think real living is?"
The long figure on the sofa half un-
curled and pointed a slender finger to-
ward the garden.
"That, Flora
THAT! But that is only the garden.
What has that to do with real living"
Everything, l assure you, for me.
There is something in that yellow,
shadowy scene out there that stirs my
nature, that makes thoughts come to-
me that cause me to know am really
living. Yesterday only was block,
an automaton, for an hour or two.
Then walked there in the garden
paths and came upon bit Of that red
sage yonder with the early sun sitting
slowly through it. There was q some
thing in the color, the poise and charm
Of that flower that suddenly walked me
up and made me really live. Howev-
er, it is not always the garden. Once,
remember, it was the silvery piping
of a tiny child at play In the street,
many times 1t has been music of all
sorts, symphonies, operas, simple bal
lads, and the other day it was the blue
Of the sky above my head and the busy
twitter Of the sparrows in the chestnut
trees.'
You see, Flora, how fantastic are
some Of the Inhabitants OF this world
and Of what thin dreams their lives
are made. It is that that amuses me
here below, that makes my real liv-
ing.e said Gertrude, looking across at
the long figure on the sofa.
The dark gray eyes that looked back
into her own were moist, and the voice