Year: 1873

Only that Old maid!


1t had been said Of Anustasia Broudo
once, in Skyeberg, it had been said a
hundred times. She was a maid whom
there were none to praise, and very few
to love; and She dwelt among the I'M
trodden ways, though not exactly beside
the stream of Love. For Skyeberg is a
New England town, and Anatasia lived
in Skveberg. She had come there with
in few years, n box of cottage and
two or three acres attached having been
left her by relative. Consequently, if
she had been younger, Cand the proba-
bility is that she had) there were none
TO remember it.


She was Il thin, straight figure of a
woman, with hair silver gray, but soft
and abundant; pair of shy eyes, thin
face to match the thin figure, and some
thing timid, almost scared in its express
sion, to keep in countcnance the shy
ness of the eyes. IN all her forty years
she had not overcome an absurd trick
of blushing when spoken to, nor was
always sure Of giving a collected answer
when spoken to. 1t was like working
your passage" to talk to Miss Brande,
people made haste to discover There
were easier ways than this Of getting on
in the social curriculum, and they soon
learned to pass her by. She wondered
secretly what it was in herself that re-
PEELED them, and dreading Sights with
the sensitiyeness peculiar to a timid ma
ture, Withdrew more and more into her
self, that she might not be in the way Of
receiving them. Despite all this, she
was gentlewoman to the very core
No one ever heard her say spiteful or
uncharitable word of others, nor did
she ever, by speech or stare, or any
overt act, wound the feelings of those
with whom she was thrown in contact


A smart young couple had rented a
portion of her house, and all the land
but half an acre. This she titled her
self as garden, elling out from its pro-
ducts and her rent, and Il few hundred
dollars which she had in government
bonds, spare income, but quite sufli-
cient for her simple wants.


1t was not long before the march of
Improvement laid IN iron track across
her land, and shrieking engine whisk-
ed daily pnst her door, The innovation
was disagreeable to our shy gentlewo-
man, alike from the noise and dust CON
scuucnt upon it and from the intrusion
upon retirement. But the march OF inn
proyement cared little for that. As Il
compensation, her property was mcreas-
ed in value and she got higher rent and
had better market for her garden veg
etables. Her income had been sufficient
before, and now there was surplus,
with which she would have liked to ben
eft others. But here her diftidence prov
ed hindrance. She tried going among
the poor to learn their wants, but felt
SO much like an impertinent meddler IN
other peoples affairs that she was nm
able to create a pleasant impression.
The children shrieked "old maid" when
she had got short distance from the
door, but not beyond carshot. She
went home with crushed feeling, and
n sense of incapacity that destroyed her
sleep that night, and made her nervous
" disposed for week. The attempt
was not repeated. She began to feel
like Ishmael, she was one thrust out
from among her kind Yet she still had
a yearning to do some good-to bind
hearts to her by being helpful, since she
bad not the social grace requisite to at-
tract them.


One constant visitor she had. This
was witless little fellow named Dicky
Bolton, the pest and aversion OF the
whole neighborhood. Anastasia, in her
gentleness, had shown kindness to this
human brute, the memory of which
hing to his callous soul. or whatever
substitute for soul an idiot may be
supplied with, as moss does to rock.
He was Mt this time stout youth OF
twenty with pale, vacant face, red
hair, and small, snaky eyes. His temp