Year: 1874

lou tnink oio MAIDS are "horrid," do you;
well, that is not unnatural in girl of .sbe.
witching nineteen" like yourself, dear reader.
and your remark doesn't offend me in the
least; so you need not start and blush In that
pretty fashion. saying, 80, Miss Faith. did
not know you were near enough to hear" But
Ibid hear, and am glad Of it, for have been
wanting to have talk with you upon this
very subject. see you wondering what I
can possibly have TO say about anything so
un'nteresting as ''old maids.' Never mind;
come with me 10 my coy little sanctum, and
| you and will have quiet chat together
There, now we are nicely settled. Tell me
first what you think of my "haven of rest"
as 1 call it, Ah, you look surprised, and say,
''Why Miss Faithful how coy and pretty ev-
erything looks; didn't think" You
pause, and finally end in a little laugh as
say, ''You did not think old maids cared any.
thing about pretty things. But you are mis-
| is on earth a more devout worshiper of the
| beautiful in nature and art than myself It
| Is not only to the young that the life is beal-
| tiful; IL Is still so 10 me, and am not young
in years, for if live till the spring-time
comes, when the wee violets. begin to open
|
/ shall be fity-nine years old. How wide
| open grow your eyes, blue as the violets. aud
| you say wonderingly you never dreamed I
| was that old. Perhaps not, for my heart Is
as young as yours, dear; and, after all, as one
of my favorite authors says, 'Age is a matter
of feeling, not of years" and l am content
| ed, happy-Eearted woman, though am an
old maid. know what you girls think Of
that class OF wtmen as general thing.
You imagine one of the sisterhood dis
agreeable, prim, stiff, and 'awfully prop
er," in whom all natural telling has long
since ceased to exist; whose heart is only .
great empty cavern, haunted by the pale, sor-
rowiul ghost Of her long-vaDished girlhood,


and filled with graves in which are buried


the ashes of all The bright hopes, happy
thoughts and sweet dreams that made those
sunny hours OF giIlhood so bright and full Of
promise; and deeper down than all the rest,
one grave, covered with dead flowers that
were once dreams; and in this grave, upon
which, as upon an altar, single taper calleI
memory is kept burning, lies buried the love
that made this lonely creature what she is.


But I IN afraid Pve made mistake. / have
carried my description farther than intend
ed doing; but you own that the first part Of
my picture was correctly drawn, and you
have thought you would rather die than be
called an old maid May you ask me a ques-
ton? Certainly. You would like TO know


II l ever had any lovers, ever loved q man


we'll en- ugh to marry him ?You think not, for


II such was the case you do not think could
be the happy, contented woman / seem to-
day. Yon have asked me a frank question,
AID you shall have frank answer, though it
is upon subject have not spoken of tor
many years. When was girl gave my
heart and love into the keeping OF good
man, who treasured the gift as a man should
de, and tor few short months life was very
| bright to me. But the good Father deemed
it best that all our bright dreams should not
become reality, 80 he took my Philip from
me and was left TO bear life's burden un-
shared by mortal help, and to fit myself to
meet my love, who is waiting for ME beyond
the dark river. in the city whose walls are Of
Jasper and whose gates OF pearl. How did I
bear it? Not well at first, / confess, but al
ter awhile learned to view il in different
light; and gazing up out of the Depths Of
despair into which had sunk, clasped the
loving hand that is extended to all stricken
ones i was drawn outlof the darkness into tine
light. That loss became blessing to me.
dear, In a way you cannot understand. So


you see, dear, have bad my little romance,


as all women have some time during their


life, and am better woman for it; would


not exchange the men. ory oil those few bright
months for kingdom and untold wealth.
You are looking at me now with o dreamy
look in the shadowy depths of your soft eyes,
and know you are trying In vague way tO
picture to yourself how looked away hack
| in those far off years of the past, when l. too,
was girl OF nineteen. But you can see
nothing but the quiet, white-haired old
woman before yon, and you finally give up
your task, for you have not memory 70 as
sis. you, cnly imagination. Then imagina-
ti0n changes, and you try to put aside the
memory of the bright, young face you saw in
the mirror this morning, and to see in lis
place another quite old woman, upon whose
head Times hand has been laid heavily, and
the sunny hair has whitened beneath his
touch till its threads of gold have turned to
silver. But this picture is imperfect also,
and finally. with little futtering sigh
whether from weariness of my prCsrlc talk,
or because of your inability TO penetrate tho
mysterious, shadowy future, cannot tell
you rise and kiss me gently, and there is a
soft light in your blue eyes as you leave my


sanctum that makes me say earnestly, God


grant that her lite may be bright and beau
: tiful, and that her heart may be as pure and
, | sweet forever as it is this day. Then l turn
| to my window, and. gazing toward the west
ern opal-tinted sky, fall into pleasant
reverie. as the sun sinks with stately majes-
| ty behind the crimson and purple bars that
ar. shutting out its golden glory. / watch
it all Until the last rays have faced and the
twilight gathers softly, growing grayer ard
grayer, until 1t drins at last in To- the sii dark.
ness without, and


"silently, one by enc. in the inhn,ss meadows of
Blossom the lovely stars, the forget-me-nOts Of thu