Year: 1874




received a letter the other day from an un-
known lady living in Louisiana, and she asks
"Why don't you write something serious? like
your notes. but they are all intended to make
people laugh, while it is but right that people
should sometimes be serious, if not sorrowful" !"


l have been pondering over that letter and
its request, and in order to eblige the lady Pm
going to write something very serious. l hope
it will touch the heart of every reader, and re-
mind him that the pleasures and gaities of this
world arc but dross. Here go:


"lt was cold winter evening in the year
1855. The winds howled dismally around the
fral tenement occupied by the widow O'Grady,
and the hearth had long since been cold. She
sat rocking to and fro and the wild winds sor-
rowful Moan called up in her sad heart bitter
recolleei. 2ps of other days. She remembered
standiAao y the bedside of her dying husband,
and w7ping the death dew from his forehead,
as the angel of death hovered-"


No, hang me if she did won't lie about a
thing anyway. The truth is, her husband was
killed by an old shanty falling on him and his
wife didn't see him until he had been dead
sixteen hours. 1 can't say that she wiped the
dew of death off his face, and go on and tell
how poverty came, the landlord threa tened and
the children died, when the facts in the case
are, that she married butcher within six
weeks after the funeral, and now weighs trihe
under 200 pounds.


But, want to oblige the lady, and I'll try
something else.


at was lovely face, even in death--the face
of Georgiana Middlefeld. The angle of death
had turned away and left smile on the cold,
white face, and those who stood around the
coffin could scarce believe that she slept the
sleep which knows no waking. Poor girl =
Light hearted as the summer breeze, joyous as
sunshine, every eye kindled at her approach.
A long, bright future seemed assured her, when
she was suddenly"


won't do it'll die first The facts are Ia.
Georgiana was an old maid with Roman no.
milky eyes and cork limb, and any one WIZ
could swear that he had ever seen a smile on
her face would have received $50 reward. MOI
as much as l want to oblige that Louisiana
lady, Pm not going to 60 on and tell delber-
ate lie. Georgiane didn't die either though
eyeryhody was always hoping she would. She
still lives, and if there's family within six
teen mile of her who have any secrets that she
hasn't found out they ought to have pension.


You see, my dear woman, its easy enough to
feel sorrowful, but its hard to write a sorrowful
article. You might cry over an old pair of
shoes, but did you ever hear of an author writ
ing sorrowful article under the head of
"leather and fndings?" l could 60 on and say
that mother wept as she came across the bun
die of playthings which had once amused her
poor dead boy, but how do l know she did p
how 40 know mes ueao fernaps, Wnen l
came to get at the truth, I'd find him young
man of Is, swelling around with diamond pin
on, or belonging to hose company and in debt
for his washing.


I'd like to make the aged tear trickle down
the brny cheek, and choke every bosom with
grief to such an extent as to burst vest buttons
and corset strings. But | have to die some day,
and don't propose to have folks say of me as
| go by;


HE was pretty good citizen but an awful
liar."-M Quad, IN Our FireSide Friend.