Year: 1867

lWtllty years uau udue lu ulllFrtntt WIFI |
the woman's heart, though she was :. old |
Aunt Matilda!H One day there came let
ter to her. perfumed, sealed with wax and |
superscribed in hand that she did not re-
cognize; she broke the seal with trepidation,
for ii was not often that letter came to her. |
''My dear Miss Hastings, IL was addressed;
she did not know the hand, and curiously
turned the page. "Eyer and always your
atfectionate friend, were the closing words,
and then 1t was signed Nathan Armstrong.


There was nothing in the letter of special
moment-it did not speak of the past nor of
the future-made no allusion to private mis-
fortunes nor poisoned hopes or fears, except |
so far as they referred to his child His
mother had informed him that his little
Eunice (he did not say Lamsie) had been
placed in the care of Miss Hastings, and he
could not deny himself the pleasure OF ex-
pressing to her his very earnest thanks for
her goodness in receiving the child, in the
first place, and for the care and pains she
was bestowing on her education.


As the twig is bent, you know, Miss Hast
ings, he said and then he said, with the
only attempt at playfulness and familiarity
in the whole letter, that in his own case he
feared the twig had been sadly warped from
Its first righteous bending; ''but this, per-
haps, my dear Miss Hastings, makes me all
the more solicitous for my chid--all the
more grateful for your generous painstaking.
/ have not the shallow vanity to suppose
such scrvices'-here services had been
erased and benefits inserted" can be ad-
equately returned, and beg you will not at
tribute to me notion that would so misrep-
resent me-


This was the only allusion to the bank
check the letter contained-a check for five
times the amount which, at her usual terms,


would have been due Matilda in five years.


Look at it how she would, she felt outraged,


grieved, and offended. She would send the


check directly back, and with such biting


and bitter words as should make him repent
his cold charity. She was not exactly an


object of outdoor relief, and if she were,


there were hands from which she would


prefer to receive il. In her first proud in


dignation, and with all her patience and


quietude she was quite capable Of being


proudly indignant, she wrote something very


like what we have set down for her; but on


second thought she saw that such course


betrayed heart quite too sensitive to the


past-she must word her refusal of the do


nation, for she still considered it donation,


more cautiously. So she threw her first


note in the fire, and after some careful con-


sideration wrote another:


Mrs. Hastings was greatly obliged to Mr..


not so exorbitant as he seemed to suppose,


and she begged, therefore, leave to return


the superfluous check, and would venture to


suggest preference for adjusting her ac-


counts thereafter with her friend and neigh


Dor, Mrs. Armstrong. She went so far as tC


inclose this note, together with the obnoxi


GUS check, and to subscribe the envelope


but after all she was not satisfcd-was this


really any better than her first angry dis


patch She was forced to admit that it was
uO bCltSl dt u iitbiC llOiC uSiuCihtC,


little more attempt at concealment, perhaps


but in reality no concealment whatever
} She had told all that she was most anxiou!
not to tell had she kept it all these years t.
was sent to the flames after the first. Sh,
would simply inclose the check in a sheet o
blank note paper-that was what she woul'
: do and that was what she did, sleeping
, upon the resolve; but when the morning
came and she thought it over once more
she was as far from being satisfied with her
self as ever-as far from being satisfied witt
: herself almost, as from being satisfied wit
I Nathan. She would not betray to him an
| telling or emotion of any sort and wha
4 could she Go that would not betray both feel
D ing and emotion, and both too, of u pecu
e liar nature? She was betrayed by what sh
e had written and by what she had not write
alike! So at last, with Nathan's letter i
! her bosom, and bitter tears ready to star
q she went to Nathan's mother.


n "Foolish child.' says Mrs. Armstrong
, "you had better just keep the money an
: say nothing about it, Natty never NEAR
v nothing but kindness, and he didn't kno'
c how to do no better than lie has done TIL
: truth is, Tilly, men are just what they art
# and we've got to take them at that; and n
II man ever understood woman, and no on
Il ever will and no great wonder, after al
/ for no woman ever understood herself
1t We're curious creters, Tilly, the hest of us
J we stand in our own light good deal, an
J, what is worse, we won't get ont of it whe
!" we make pitch darkness all rnnnd us!
d don't want to find fault, Tilly. and ! don
d mean to say you hadn't strong movocatior
r but you got into your own light twen1
l. years ago, and you have been walking
& the sladers ever since; and now that the
e are just beginning to lift little. don't dra
s. them down onto your own head, not till W
it have thought Il bit, any how" The dc
J. woman had never even limited till now TIL


she thought Matilda had been the least
s. fault; and for my part, think she was e
r titled to say thus much after 50 long (
s. lcnce. And il would seem that Matil,
L. thought so too, for she wiped her eye
nr kissed her adopted mother, and, with lit,
ig Eunice in her hand, went ava, wonderful
at comforted.


n That night the child would stay and sic
;" with her. slam so tired, she said, 'a
ii want to lay my head on the pillow close
,s- yours Matilda had carried her the last
to of the way, and when she undrcssed her 5
he saw that her arms and head were burni
las hot.


,s- Iwish papa were here don't you, Al
d. Tilly?" says the child; and then she wor
IN have the picture on the pillow bctwe
w. them.


W. "Oh no" says Matilda, blnshing thou
he it was dark, "your papa won't like that b
me be smothered; VIC must put him in
q drawer of the bureau where he is used


be-"