Year: 1871

VlOo" "IGOos


"MY DEAR FRIEND: shall be very glad to ac-
cept your kind invitation to pass the summer with
you, on your granting me one condition. You
know something of my sad history; how at the age
OF nineteen after six months of bliss, my idolized
husband was ruthlessy torn from me by the de-
lived secluded life, that has been sacred to the
memory of my sainted James. l feel that | am
yet welded to him in everything-must be through
life; and that | must not be brought into contact
to his memory, and have no desire but to be left
alone with my life-weght of sorrow, and remain as
far removed from the thoughtless world as possible.
II can find any secusion in your home, and if,
during my stay, you will accede to what may seem
to you my selfish demands, and forbid your young
and happy friends to visit you, at least TO see me-
will gladly seek your home as place of rest, and
your heart as a twin sister in sympathy and con
ISOLATION with this blightng grief OF life and we
will mourn together.


Your true friend,


MAEEI. ATHERTON."


Now, the lively lit:le gray-hailed woman
who was the recipient of the above missive,
puzzled over it a long time to know what to
think OF the writer, and at last her conclu-
sion on this point was made evident by the
hearty, good-natured laugh she indulged in.


Don't be shocked my sensitive readers,
into supposing that this little woman who
had years enough to know better, was laugh
ing through sheer heartlessness at the i'm
agincd grief Of the young Mrs. Mabel Ather-
ton, which found expression in her letter,
with its deep fringe of mourning.


Ay, that was it. -''imagined grief" for the
lively little gray haired woman Of fifty Mrs,
Jane Fleming, had seen enough of the world
in all its phases, and had within her own life
enough Of its experiences, to know that the
grieis Of 4 girl the old lady's words, my
Il f,n 1.,\ Of 4
more than three or four months or WE'LL a
years duration, are but the perverted foibles
of silly brain, or monomania Of 4 disorder
ed intellect


Remember, this wise little woman had
reference only to those griefs which seek out
ward sympathy. To be sure, there are griefs
which lay their tender touch over all the elc-
ments of the heart and head, breathing q
gentler hush over the spirit and tinglng with
golden glow of quiet, peaceful submission,
every lineament Of life; these are too holy
for utterancc-too pure for contact with the
outer wOlld--too gentle and sincere to find
sympathy in aught but the quiet whispering5
of their own memory, and too full of heavens
mercies TO pervert life from its heaven en-
dowed purposes of good, and make il an in
nuity.


She had such q grief, hidden from the
worlds view, and it was never perceived in
her face by those who We're curious about it.
After 4 happy union OF five years, her hus-
band she had loved with all the truth and de-
votion of a faithful heart was taken from her.
That was twenty years ago, and she, too
might have sit down in idleness, and fritter-
ed years away IN selfish repining, but for the
needs that forced her to forget her griets in
severe struggles with this world; but even
now, when she sat in the twilight, with a
peaceful calm in her face, her eyes were
looking through the shadows, and her
thoughts were wandering down cob-webbed
and dust-begrimmed vistas, to that golden
period of her existence when he wandered
with her.


She has never married since. She believed,
too, in her good generous heart that Mabel
Atherton had such a quiet sense of loss in
her heart rs we have described above, and it
was not at it she was laughing; but at the
false grief, the imagined duty to mourn loud
ly and to wear her sorrow on cher sleeve for
davis to peck at''


At any rate the young widow received the
desired assurance of seclusion. and duly
found herself, on her arrival ut Mrs. Flem-
ng's clasped in the lady's arms, and greeted
with a warm kiss, which made her reel pro-
cate these friendly advances with more ami
nation than she had expressed in any act tor
a long time previous.


These two never met before, but the wild
ow Fleming had been the dearest friend of
Mabel Atherton's mother. This bond at
once made them fast friends, and Mabel was
made to feel she was sincerely welcome at
this country home.


During the first days of her stay with Mrs.
Fleming, the sweet, sad faced little form,
wrapped in sable habiliments of mourning,
with not vestige of white to relieve it, gave
herself over prey to her chronic melancholy,
and sat during the long days and even,
ngs in a lethargy of hopefulness, looking
with eXpressionless eyes and face into the
future, or, if speaking, sending grave-like
chill with every word, and wandering off as
soon as possible into panegyrics over the
dead, or taking ioyless views of the future,
with much the same zest that one indulges
in good dinner with indigestion lurking
behind it.


You have seen such people, my friends.
and no doubt have thought, as do, that it is
the most extreme sellishness to humanity and
thankfulness to heaven thus to wrap ones
self in the shroud of ones own griefs,
and expect all the world to abandon their
duties and mourn also


Mabel Atherton did not realize this but
somehow Mrs. Fleming had a way of drop
ping in at the moment when she felt most
desparing and, exercising these sable spirits
by drawing her thoughts away into pleasant
er channels, and making her forget self in
the cares, hopes and joys of others. Indeed,
several times she was shocked, almost hor-
ritied, at finding a merry peal Of laughter,
in olden days, well up to her lips and escape
from them ere she could control 1t after
which occurrence she would do pennancc by
relapsing into deeper shade of sadness, and
talking more frequently of her mourned idol.
Yet, withal, her face was not so gloomy and
her heart was lighter; while the world did
not seem SO bad world as before she came
to this lively old lady, whose thoughts al
ways wandered into pleasanter places.


'Mabel," Mrs Fleming said to the young
widow, one day, "you must find the con- :
stant company Of an old woman like