Year: 1865

One stormy evening this winter, we were
sitting in my room before glowing CRATE
Mrs. Grant and she talking, I listening
while the wind whistled and the windows
shook dismally. | seem to see her now as
she leaned back in my great easy chair, her
feet upon stool, and the two fair little hands
that looked like child's folded over the cap
lgh tly. The picture was both pretty and
touching. Though quite old, she bore few
traces of age. Her face was smooth and soft
her hair black and shining, neatly folded
away under a charming little lace cap, trim
med with purple ribbons. There was smile
upon her lips as she ceased speaking and
sank back as have described her, but tears
were on her cheeks, shining like dew below
her spectacles. Since that evening have of
ten recalled her in just that position, calm
and exquisite in every detail of feature and
dress. The quakerish style she assumed,
became her better than any one ever saw,
and as she was a special favorie of mine,
suppose may be pardoned for saying she
looked perfectly beautiful, though mary who
knew her bat slightly, failed to understand
my enthusiastic admiration, and seldom failed
10 'eaze me if | spoke of her, about my pen
chdnt for old ladies'.


She had been telling me long story-a
story that the world would sneer at as the
creation of a morbid imagnati m were | to
write it. Step by step she led me up ttro'
the tiowery paths of youth to womanhood,
where the clouds lowered and storms broke
me rcilcssly over her head. l understood now
why she was so gentle and serene, why her
character was so spotessly pure and lovable
IN her old age. She had passed through the
fires of faffictionlearly, and all the dress of
her nature had been consumed. From that
time size went on her way so calmly, so qui-
city, that old Time in tender pity, tempered
the weight Of his touch to feathery lightness
80 that the evening Of life found her unbo~ed
in folm, and as fresh in appearance as many a
woman at forty.


Presently The little clock upon the mantel
chimed the hour and as the tenth stroke rang
clear and sweet through the chamber, she
rose smilingIy and held out her hand.


Zen O'Clock, and have kept you from
your writing all the evening. 1t is too bad
! am afraid. too, tn at have saddened you -
Do not think abolt it, chId. | am much
better and happier for what has happened 10
me. Bitter lessons are often needed to teach
us how to live, and NINE were such as were
necessary for my good. | would not have it
otherwise. Why have told you my histo-
ry, | cannot tell. This is the first time
INDUCED in retrospecring the Past for thirty
years, and why the impulse should have come
upon me, Is question 1 cannot answer
Perhaps there was a purpose in it-who
knows. and you will remember my expert
ences to your own advantage sometimes.
Goodnight, dear, ard God bless you.'


She came TO my side, bent to kiss my fore.
head tenderly; then as if mpeled by stron-
ger impulse, caught me close to her bosom
AMI pressed kiss after kiss upon my lips
Her breath famed my face, fragrant as a
chiId's, and her little hands were so velvety
in their touch, | could not forget the scnsa-
tion for lorg time after she left the room
repetition Of her "good- d-nght" in tenderer more
lingering accents.


| took the chair she had vacated after lis
tening to her steps as she glided down the
hall, and turning the gas jet around, so as to
fall properly upon my book, began to read.
| must have grown sleepy very soon, for it
was only eleven O'Clock when l awoke from
slumber to find the book had fallen to the
floor, and with cold perspraton drenchi ug
my face and hair. | had been dreaming Of
Mrs. Grant, and what I suffered in that
dream is beyond The power of description.


In this dream seemed to be staining in
the shadow af a stately house, totally strange
tc me. No remembrance of the people or
place familiarized single scene but as |
paced back and forth upon uerrace,a strange
man passed me, his face grave and gloomy.
and his manner sipgularly expressive Of dis
| tress.


Son crowds of people began to gather up-
| on the terrace, ana L turned 10 the stranger
To ask him what it meant.


There is to be an execution" he replied,
" A woman has been condemned to DEATH"
| turned from the spot, intending to avoid
the scene, but he commanded me sternly to
remain where l was, end l lad no power to
move.


Standing there in the shadow, mute and
cold with the dread and horror that had seiz-
me. | heard the sound of measured steps,
and slow, sad music swept through the place
like a requiem. 1t is singular how distinct
and impressive the details ofdreams often are;
and in that moment recognized the notes oi
the air performed, which was like funeral