Year: 1873

There are certain feminine instincts that
assume in many eyes the character rather
of virtues than of instincts, and the mani
festation of which in any individual seems
10 touch all other women nearly.


Among these instincts, so to call them, is
that material one which causes the year-old
baby to hold her mothers needle-book
or roll of work on her little breast and
hush it Off to sleep, which causes her half
a dozen years aiterward to wake up in the
light and see if her doll is warm enough,
and which, score of years later yet, knits
a lie between herself and every tender liz
tie child she sees. A strange tie without
the immense joy Of a mothers love-that
joy which compensates all suffering, which
overtlows the inner cells of the most desc
late heart with vital warmth, which is full
filled with satisfaction and with that ineffa-
BILE yearning where earth touches close on
heaven-a barren tie beside that dviney
complete thing, apd with more pain than
pleasure in it. 1t is as if the bitter lot of
women in this world caused them 10 feel
the pathos OF the fate of every child born
into it, and gave them pity that is all but
love. Little butterfly in the sunshine and
among the flowers" ii seem, to say, "by-
and-by night is coming, darkness and
heavy dew and the night hawk. Ifonly I
could project you r.


Whenever / used to see little bent old
woman go by my window with child in
her arms, these and kindred thoughts
would follow her. l did not know her
name and / could not see her face; but she
interested me more than the bright-cheek-
ed and golden haired young creatures that
tripped by on their way from the finishing
school. Her clean but utterly faded calico
was So short that it showed the clumsy viii
lage lies and drab stockings of her knob
by and rheumatic feet her shawl was
thrcadbare black blanket; her bonnet was
a rusty poker; an alpaca apron was her
only vanity; her poor old hands were bare
and bony and misshapen, hut they seemed
to me fairer than any idle lady's in the
land when I saw the way in which they
clasped the child she held, the way in which
as she walked she used to pause and lift the
child higher, and lay the little face against
her own, and step off again ~ If she were
young and happy. Day by day saw her
pass. As the child grew, and sat up in her
arms and looked about, she would straight
en- her bent form to bear him more erectly.
Often she would kiss him rapturously as
she went along, and she was always Groom
ing some low tune to him or talking a
loving gibberish that he see med to under
stand. Evidently the child had no moth
rLop e., ka
clothed in odds and ends great sacque
aud hood wrapped him for a long time, and
when the Spring came, his head emerged
with the shoit yellow curls crowned with a
hat that seemed TO delight him, so often he
tore il off with his little hands to look at il,
and set ii on again awry, bat which she
must have rescued from an ash-barre, and
have secured, and trimmed with scraps of
cambric from her rag bag. l longed TO ask
them in while they were slowly going by I;
but | have an uncomfortable reverence for
reserves, and l tancied she was one of
those who had rather suffer than be seen
to suffer. But when the baby grew so
heavy that she had to rest every little
while, she sat down one day on my garden
step, and then opened the door , go out
and stopped and made friends with the
child, and gave him cup of milk and a
cake, and began with her an acquaintance
which If do not in another life resume, it
will be because i am not fit.


Years aud years ago old Margaret Ewlns
had been young; II seems as though no one
could guess the fact were 1t not plainly
stated, so gray and wrinkled and scanned
was the face which looked up at you.
Years and years ago." she said once. "Its
hard TO believe 1t now when you see me,
child but every wrinkle is care, and ev-
cry furrow is tear There were no wrink-
les nor furrows. no cares nor tears--it was
all fresh and blooming-when l married
Stephen"


When she married Stephen That was